O Totem, Where Art Thou?

By now, my friends know that I don’t need to make up stories.  Oddities just surround and/or follow me, sometimes literally, like my totem pole.

I discovered this four foot-plus fellow during my first drive through Oregon with my late husband, Tino, in the early ‘90’s.  His name’s Italian but he was Dutch; he claimed his Mom was nuts about some opera singer at the time.  Tino was fascinated with all things American, like the size of the sandwiches we were able to stuff into our mouths.  Made me pause but a moment before I shoved in the rest of my chicken salad on a Kaiser roll.

He and I spent a summer exploring the country, looking for our own ideal spot in which to settle.  While driving through Oregon in our Honda Civic hatchback, I spotted a Mountain Man, as real as I was ever going to see.  He was enormous, with a bearclaw necklace and chainsaw in hand.  There were a dozen or so totem poles in his off-highway spot; big ones, over eight feet.  But here was this little one; a Beaver on the bottom and Eagle on the top.  Maybe the Mountain Man graduated from Oregon State.**

Tino laughed when I declared it would fit in Trigger.   We tried; the wings rested nicely across the top of the back seat, and the pole fit between the front seats and up to the stick shift.  Sold.

I never intended to paint the thing; I liked the idea of it weathering naturally.  It didn’t really get in the way on the trip back home, and it came in handy when we were stopped in Utah for speeding.

The officer checked my New Jersey license and Tino’s Dutch passport.  He looked at the totem pole and asked, matter of fact,

“Tourists, huh?”

I bit my sarcastic tongue and was glad I did as he laughed and gave me a warning

Totem was kept in storage for 12 years while I lived on Ruff Life.  When I brought him out two years ago he was as fresh-looking as that original cross-country drive.  But I now live in an 8-by 16-foot travel trailer and after all this time I figured we could weather together.

When I decided to hit the road there was never any question about taking the totem pole along, but I really didn’t want to have to cart it in and out of either the trailer or back of the truck.  People mount bicycle racks and storage boxes onto their cars, trucks and trailers; why can’t I attach my totem pole?

My truck mechanic had a solution and I was short of time.  Unfortunately I did not ask for an estimate beforehand; his previous repair work to my newly acquired truck was very reasonable, plus he’s mobile.  I guess I figured metal was 10 cents a pound.  My original idea involved one of my wooden flowerboxes, a couple of C-clamps and numerous bungee cords, but every man I spoke to poo-poo’d the idea; if they didn’t try to talk me out of it entirely.

But Terry said he could do it and he did a beautiful job.  Too bad for me, I explained as I recovered my wits, that he did a champagne job on my beer bottle budget.  But he trusts me to pay in installments.  A friend commented on how remarkable it was that he would do that, but I think it’s just another example of getting back what you give out.  Besides, I think he liked doing the job.  Not the kind of request he gets every day, I remarked as I watched him take photos for his portfolio.

As a matter of fact, he explained, while assembling the components, he ran into a man who was figuring an attachment for HIS totem pole.  Terry described my proposed apparatus, suggesting some modifications for the man’s taller pole.  What are the odds?

A chipped exhaust cover
becomes lips and teeth

“Was he young or old?” I interrupted.

“He was…older.”

I didn’t ask.  “Well, did he look like he was crazy or did he look OK?”  I can’t believe how my standards have fallen.

Terry could only stare.  The man of his encounter could be my next soul-mate; birds of a feather, so to speak.  If nothing else, I’d like to meet a kindred spirit.

As if I'm not concerned enough about my driving abilities.  Not only will I be gripping the wheel in terror, trying to concentrate on the pavement before me; but one of my eyes will always be on the lookout for another totem on the move, and only one of them is worth a darn.  It’s like Sleepless in Seattle, no?  Maybe I should take out ads in local newspapers along the way.

Despite the terrific totem pole stand, there were two snags during installation:  it was too close to the trailer for the locking mechanism to properly engage.  An adjustment would be timely and costly; so I suggested turning the Eagle's wings around, which is why, if you look closely, the wings in the two photos are different.

The second snaffoo involved stabilizing the totem.  Because of its height, and with no bracket on the upper portion, the bumper would be jiggling and eventually the welds would break, if not on the first trip out.  Short of welding more metal, the solution was to wedge pillows behind the pole.  It worked, so I covered some foam with Sunbrella.

We all have one thing we've spent WAY too much money on either buying, improving, storing, repairing or in my case, mounting.  I hated the pole for about an hour; then pulled myself together and determined to use it as a future reminder to get an estimate.  Why let a momentary lapse of judgement ruin a beautiful memory?

Tino didn’t survive to obtain the trappings of his idea of Western:  a ten-gallon hat, pickup truck and a gun. I’ve got the truck and a straw hat; a gun would be useless, given my poor vision,

BUT A DO GOTTA DAWG!

Perhaps I'm doing this now because we never got the chance then.  Whatever the reason, I'm glad I have the opportunity.

**Author's Note:  August, 2012.  I just now learned that the Beaver is the state animal.  And I've lived here off-and-on since 1994...duh.