Growing up, we had no electric heat, used wood in winter, fed three wood stoves non-stop, two in the living room, one in the kitchen. That lowered our electric bills and kept me busy all fall and winter. Perhaps surprisingly, a lot of good came from those days and…this time of year.
Each fall, as long back as I recall, two of us would go into the woods, cut trees, limb them, cut them into 2-foot pieces, hard and soft. We did that two years ahead, as wood is best burned seasoned.
We had a woodshed attached to the house. As winter came on, new routines kicked in. Homework was done before play, as were the chores. Wood had to be split, piled high beside all three stoves.
Funny thing is, neither my young brother nor I thought this was anything but normal. We leaned into it. All winter, we warmed ourselves by those stoves, the best heat there is. On that day, most Mainers did the same thing and were happy with a life of hard work, good heat, and simple blessings.
This is where the point that needs making is made. Think of all the good that came from habits like those, driven home at this time of year, lessons taught without knowing it, including gratitude.
What lessons, you might ask? Well, how about these? First, seasons change, and the real world matters, as does preparation for what lies ahead. We thought ahead by days, months, and years.
Since our warmth depended on an abundant supply of wood, we were thinking all the time. Since you needed hard wood and soft, you needed it under cover, and you became reliant on yourself. You learned to be responsible, made no excuses. There was no one to hear them.
What else? You figured out time management, day to day, hour to hour, but also season to season and year to year. When there is no making up for lost time, you watch things closely. We never missed a year. When light and play are limited, you get stuff done.
Then there was the simple lesson of work itself, the feeling you got when the wood was in. You could breathe a bit. You felt that way again when the wood was split, stacked, and daily piled beside each stove. You slept better knowing you had done something, felt good about it.
A sense of accomplishment starts small, did then and does now. First, you envision what needs doing, then accept responsibility, knowing others are counting on you, and do it. You learn to count on yourself, which feeds back into accepting new responsibilities, little things feeding bigger ones.
These days, the same principle applies, even if often forgotten. If you do one small thing, it gives you energy for another. Doing hard things, you get on a path. In time, you look back with confidence.
Back then, we all had duties, and they were taken seriously. Some of us are cleaning, some helping our mother cook, all the kids at different points picking vegetables, fixing and organizing, putting things up, and getting things in, including wood. We saw each other working, which reinforced our mission.
In this process, we learned larger lessons, well beyond the good feeling that comes from anticipatory thinking, preparation, and hard work. We learned what it meant to be trusted, to deliver, to do what was expected of us, until we expected it of ourselves and trusted ourselves.
Later, that lesson and the others translated into undertaking larger projects, envisioning bigger things, believing we could actually do them, working hard for them, managing backsteps, learning how to fail, taking a breath, starting again, and with all that, some patience, persistence, and fortitude.
What else did those old habits, brought on by inter, do for us? They taught us to “do our part,” that “many hands make light the load,” not to shy from things but to step up, do what needs doing, because someone has to do it. Gradually, we learned leadership: Do the hard thing, no excuses. So, as leaves fall and winter gives signs of coming again, with its burdens and joys, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and soon a new year, remember that preparation and hard work – “putting up the wood” in a hundred little ways – is good. Smile, because old lessons still ring true…this time of year!
Robert Charles is a former Assistant Secretary of State under Colin Powell, former Reagan and Bush 41 White House staffer, Maine attorney, ten-year naval intelligence officer (USNR), and 25-year businessman. He wrote “Narcotics and Terrorism” (2003), “Eagles and Evergreens” (North Country Press, 2018), and “Cherish America: Stories of Courage, Character, and Kindness” (Tower Publishing, 2024). He is the National Spokesman for AMAC. Today, he is running to be Maine’s next Governor (please visit BobbyforMaine.com to learn more)!
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