THE LESSONS I LEARNED FROM MY DAD

 
1999 on top of Buck Mountain. Dad and I had a tradition to do a hike together over Columbus Day weekend.

1999 on top of Buck Mountain. Dad and I had a tradition to do a hike together over Columbus Day weekend.

My dad, Edgar A. Carpenter, has been my guide on this human journey. As his daughter, witnessing his life experiences through my eyes has shaped how I see the world. Giving me the personal and professional experience to support others on their own human journey. 

The Vitality of an Industrial Athlete

My understanding of an industrial athlete was defined at the young age of 4 or 5 years old. Dad was a tree faller for the family logging operation in the southern Adirondack Mountains. Carpenter Brother’s Logging operated in its prime throughout the 1970s, ‘80s, and 90s until the logging industry in the Adirondacks changed. The logging brothers Phil, Bob, Donnie, Ed, and Dick were known for their honesty and work ethic. All Industrial Athletes working and relying on their bodies to perform their day-to-day job duties.

For five to six days a week, in all weather conditions, my Dad would hike into the woods carrying his Husqvarna 289 and the gas to power it. His arms were bulging out of his Fruit of the Loom navy t-shirt with a pack of True menthol cigarettes in the chest pocket. He had an amazing physique yet never stepped foot in a gym. Dad was an Industrial Athlete, using his body as his primary machine. 

Dad (Big Ed Carpenter) competing in a lumberjack competition in 1982.

Dad (Big Ed Carpenter) competing in a lumberjack competition in 1982.

Dad’s on the right holding crosscut saw; he’s the one without the hat. 

Dad’s on the right holding crosscut saw; he’s the one without the hat. 

Everything happens for a reason. 

Over the years, my father had several injuries, including a major life-threatening logging accident, as well as several lacerations resulting in significant blood loss. What we didn’t realize at the time and we’d later learn, was that although some of these injuries nearly took his life, they may have ultimately contributed to extending it. Let me explain…

In 2016, Dad began having episodes of pancreatitis. It was during my research into his symptoms and potential treatments that I sparked an interest in functional genomics and how our DNA can reveal insight into how our body may make and use nutrients. I was fueled by the science and went on to become certified as a functional genomics consultant

After submitting a sample of my Dad’s saliva to be analyzed, we learned that he has genes unique to him that cause him to over-absorb iron called hemochromatosis (or iron overload). This iron can oxidize and result in very serious chronic health conditions, and in Dad’s case was the cause of his pancreatitis. Aside from diet changes, one of the treatments to manage this condition is to have blood drawn off every 3 months to remove the iron from your body. 

Looking back and putting all of this information together, maybe all of my Dad’s injuries and the blood loss from his accidents happened for a good reason?? Because of my Dad’s experience (and the fact that I have the same genes, lol), I have developed a very special interest in functional genomics and the biochemistry of iron in the human body. 

Our challenges can become our greatest gifts. 

Early on, Dad did not let his injuries keep him from working, but eventually they would catch up with him, preventing him from working his usual long hours. Although this placed a financial burden on our family, it was a beautiful gift. Dad was suddenly available to attend my high school sporting events, visit me in college, talk for hours on the phone discussing my future dreams, and he was always available to help me, which has continued to this present day. If I say, “Hey Dad, whatcha doing tomorrow at 10 am?” His response is ALWAYS, “Why Tootie, what do you need?” (Side note: my Dad’s nickname for me is Tootie. Not exactly sure why, but that’s what he calls me.)

The financial strains during those early years became my foundation for financial independence, understanding the benefit of hard work, and my understanding that we are not what happens to us, but how we handle these challenges. But, my most important lesson… Money can’t buy time, love, or health.  

Focusing on creativity.

Dad at a craft show displaying his toys, 1998

Dad at a craft show displaying his toys, 1998

With extra time on his hands, Dad was able to tap into his creative talents. In the early 1980s, he had built my younger brother a wooden log truck as a toy. He was inspired to creatively upgrade that toy in the mid-90s and went on to build out an entire wooden model fleet of the Carpenter Brother’s Logging equipment. 

Since this time, he continues to use his creative talents building originally designed and hand crafted, heirloom quality wooden toy collectibles. And as the industry progresses, so does Dad’s collection. You can find anything from from basic skidders, to log trucks, to grapple skidders, and bucket loaders on his Etsy shop, Adirondack Logging Toys or on display at COR Health Solutions and Carpenter Physical Therapy. He also does custom pieces! 

Working on a custom order in his workshop.

Dad’s been in the workshop working on a custom order for a very patient customer.

Resiliency is determined by our ability to adapt with authenticity and vulnerability. 

In 2012, Dad took a fall from a 22’ extension ladder, dislocating both of his shoulders, resulting in a nerve injury causing complete functional loss of his right, dominant arm. From this injury, we both learned the importance of both eastern and western medicine; and that they both have their place. Western medicine saved my dad’s life from the traumatic injuries, including a near-fatal cardiac arrhythmia. Later, Acupuncture became a key to healing his nerve injury and would eventually be an important factor in healing my PTSD from the experience of watching my father clutch to life in unbearable pain. 

Anything is possible when the goal is to help someone else.

Fourteen months after this accident, Dad would begin a major addition on my Carpenter Physical Therapy practice as well as the final phase of his rehab from his shoulder injury. This gave him the time and space to creatively plan the addition to our Carpenter PT building. It worked two-fold for both of us. Allowing us to hold a shared vision of his shoulder rehab goals, his need to have a full recovery, as well as give him the goal of helping someone else with our new addition. 

Life will soften us rather than harden us when we let go and go with the flow. 

 “Papa” and his rescue pup Bailee February 28, 2021. 

 “Papa” and his rescue pup Bailee February 28, 2021. 

Finding his flow state.

Dad is nearly 74 years old and now known as “Papa” to his four grandchildren ages, 19, 11, 9, and 1. He lives near his hometown of Warrensburg, New York with his wife, my mom, Sheila. He spends his days building his wooden toy collectibles, helping his four children in any way he can, and caring for his rescue pup, Bailee.

He has come to enjoy sharing the wisdom of Dr. Wayne Dyer and Louis Hay through his routine “Papa readings”.  He has a special place in his heart for his grand dogs and pups: Odus J, Kita Marie, Beaner, Leica Marie, Willow3, and Daisy Marie. 

Dad reading “I Am: Why Two Little Words Mean So Much”, a Wayne Dyer children’s book to his pup Daisy, March 2019

Dad reading “I Am: Why Two Little Words Mean So Much”, a Wayne Dyer children’s book to his pup Daisy, March 2019

When we change the way we look at things, the things we look at will change. - Dr. Wayne Dyer 

There is more than one past.

There’s a story behind every set of eyes and we all have our own personal story. Our internal memories are created by the emotions related to our experience, and our experience is our perception of what happened. No doubt, my three siblings, my mom, and even my dad himself have different memories and perceptions of the stories that I’ve shared with you.

I believe that our beliefs are shaped by our experiences. And our perception of those experiences is the way in which something is regarded, understood, or interpreted. Self-compassion for your own experience can lead to compassion for others.