Bill's Bulletin Board
By Bill Rea

I guess I have a problem that's commonly held by a lot of other people.

I don't perform very well when heights are involved.

The real problem is I have had to subject myself to excessive heights a couple of times over the last couple of weeks in the course of my job.

You might recall the 11.377-metre inukshuk was unveiled at the Allstone Quarry property a couple of weeks ago. There was a basket crane (also known as a cherry picker) which was used to take the final measurements of this structure, and they were offering rides to media types like me to get overhead pictures. I volunteered, knowing full-well that I don't like heights and realizing that I would have likely have trouble with such basics as holding my camera steady. But every now and then, a guy like me has to suck it up in the interests of the job and in the interests being macho jerk who craves the idea of being able to look down on all the peasants. I was also able to enjoy the bragging rights that followed.

Besides, I had never been in one of these contraptions before, and my curiosity got the better of my blind terror.

As well, it made for a slightly different conversation with my wife when I got home that night.

"So, how was your day?" Beth asked.

"Oh, it was okay," I replied. "I went up in a cherry picker. Nothing special."

I received the puzzled look I was hoping for.

Then there was last week, when I was covering an event at Kettleby Public School and was obliged to go up on the roof of the building. I could have stood down, of course. No one forced me to the roof. But that would have been the chicken's way out, and I'm scared of people getting the idea that I'm scared of things (if that makes any sense).

But I was careful not to get close to the edge of the building. I made a point of staying a good 10 feet from the edge, as if I was scared of falling or something.

I'm really not sure why I have this problem with tall places. Going to the tops of tall buildings has never been a major problem. I've been to the top decks of several of them, including the CN Tower, the Eiffel Tower and even the World Trade Centre, with breaking only minimal amounts of perspiration. Indeed, my first apartment was in a highrise, on what would have been the 13th floor, except my mailing address said I was on the 14th. I even had a balcony, and I used to spend a lot of time sitting out there. It was never a problem. In fact, it was a pretty good place from which to watch electrical storms.

One factor might involve the imminent danger of falling. If it's not there, then there's nothing to fear. So a good railing and some sturdy looking windows are usually a sufficient hedge for me from the fear of falling. Although now that I reflect, when I lived in that apartment, I was always a little reluctant to put too much weight on the railing, lest something break.

Sometimes, an overly vivid imagination is no fun at all.

It's not all heights that bother. for example, I'm not a white-knuckle flyer, or anything like that, and I have flown on a number of craft, including a helicopter and even the Goodyear Blimp. Only one time did I have any trouble, and that was when I went up in a Cessna for a short flight. I'm not sure if it was the ominous signs of a major storm in the nearby skies that made my heart beat rapidly, or that the kid flying the plane was so young. I'm not sure he was even eligible to vote.

"Anyplace in particular you wanted to go," he called out over his shoulder in a voice that I don't think was finished changing.

"Yes," I replied. "The ground please."

I also sometimes have trouble working with ladders, at least the outdoor kind. There was one time I had to get up on one of the lower roofs of my house, just over the garage, to fix something. I forget what it was I had to do. I just remember that I had no trouble getting up to the roof. It's when I arrived and was trying to get to work that I realized this was going to be a problem. In fact, I became so obsessed with what might be awaiting me over the edge that I couldn't concentrate on the jab at hand at all. I eventually had to pay to have a pro come in and do the job.

Actually, as my late father used to say, there's really no danger from falling off a building. It's the sudden stop you have to worry about. That's a big help for a person stating at the top of something high, looking down.

He was a great one to talk though. I well remember him working in the ravine behind our house, standing precariously on the high rungs of a ladder that was leaning against a old pine tree, contently sawing off dead branches with a saw mounted on the end of a 10-foot poll. He never tied off the ladder or wore any kind of harness. I once suggested he do so, and received a contemptuous lecture on how he would prefer not to be impaled.

Don't try this at home, kids.

I could never stand to watch him doing this, and my mother was even more terrified, but you couldn't stop him.

I have sometimes marvelled that that man managed to live 67 years and die in bed. Of course, he was a lot more athletic than I, but that doesn't mean one should feel the need to be a daredevil, or to temp fate.

There is, after all, something to be said for being down to earth.