This week, I found myself on my father-in-law’s old tractor, trying to keep the encroaching sagebrush at bay in a field he had worked hard to clear over the years. Now, in a rural part of Montana, that might not sound like the most thrilling news, but hey, it’s going on my résumé!
Firstly, it’s not just a riding mower; it’s a sizable tractor in my eyes, and honestly, it’s ancient. I think it may have been made to pull chariots back in the day.
There’s something about having been that reliable person for so long that makes it really tough to admit when you need help. It kind of sticks in your throat.
I recall my father-in-law bringing the tractor down to our Nashville home once, all those years ago. Back then, Ronald Reagan was in office, and the tractor was already past its prime.
For a good chunk of my adult life, we lived just outside downtown Nashville, and honestly, tractor time was a rare commodity. Larger machinery has always intimidated me. I know that sounds odd, especially considering I’ve been visiting Montana for years and now live here, but hear me out.
Lots of people dread public speaking, but not me. Whether it’s on “The Today Show” or giving keynote addresses, I feel right at home with a microphone in front of a crowd of strangers. Give me that scenario, and I’m good to go.
But put me on a tractor, mowing a field that’s pitched so steeply that the cows need shorter legs on one side to avoid rolling over? Well, that’s a whole different story. I’ve got a lot of questions hanging in my mind.
Oh, and let’s not forget about the rocks. Despite how little rain we get, they seem to thrive as if they’re on some kind of rock growth spurt.
Luckily, I’ve got a few neighbors I can call when I’m in a bind. I have to admit, I kind of rotate the calls, hoping none of them gets too familiar with my name or starts letting my calls go to voicemail. Sometimes, I try to disguise my voice, but my Southern accent pretty much gives me away.
I wish I could just say, “No problem” with confidence, but, truth be told, I need someone to let me know which lever to pull. So, I reach out for help.
My father-in-law is currently in assisted living, which is a bit of a change for both of us. He has this legendary reputation for handling that tractor, but turning his instructions into something useful? That’s a challenge. Sitting in that old seat, I quickly realized that my skills as a public speaker didn’t translate much to understanding tractor controls.
So I end up FaceTiming my patient neighbors and asking lots of questions. Over the years, I’ve told many medical professionals, plumbers, carpenters, and even tractor experts, “I can talk, play piano, and write pretty well. But when it comes to this stuff? You’ll need to walk me through it like I’m in kindergarten.”
One morning, after I had a little adventure chasing a moose out of the hay barn, I called my old college piano professor, who thankfully is still around. I joked with him that he hadn’t covered moose extraction in any of our classes.
He laughed and said, “You must have missed that lecture.”
I guess I missed a few. And even after 40 years with my wife, I’m still discovering gaps in knowledge that go beyond tractors or moose. I know about medications, insurance, hospital routines, and what certain sounds indicate when things are off. Yet, there are still more calls to make and questions to ask, often about things I think I should already know.
Making those calls is often tougher than I would’ve expected. When you’re the dependable one for so long, it’s hard to acknowledge that you need help. You find yourself thinking you should just know how to deal with things, and meanwhile, the issue patiently waits for you to sort out your internal debate.
In Montana, though, reality tends to present itself pretty starkly. The ground is steep, the machinery is heavy, and regardless of your qualifications, the weather doesn’t really care. Saying “I’m fine” sounds great—until the tractor accidentally takes out a fence.
The same hesitation can be seen in hospital rooms or when juggling unpaid bills. We often put on a cheerful face and say “We’re doing fine,” when in fact, what we could really use is someone to sit with a loved one or help untangle the mess of paperwork. You should see the long emails I write to my CPA friend. Who knew piano skills didn’t translate well to tax codes?
Earlier this year, I even framed a doorway. Then, there was my recent attempt at using a chainsaw—let me tell you, that was quite nerve-wracking for someone who’s used to a piano and pen. And now, this week, tackling a tractor. I’m glad to be learning new skills, but I’m also picking up the habit of reaching for my phone before my determination and pride lead me into expensive missteps.
If you happen to be the go-to person for others, maybe consider who you should call for support. Let them know where you’re struggling. In my experience, folks are often more than willing to share their knowledge; they just need to see you drop the pretense of already knowing everything.
For now, I’m thankful to have all my fingers intact as I reach for the phone again and grateful that my neighbors are still there to help.
