A Day in the Life of a Senior Leader

Chapter 40. I’m Going to Dig a Hole

Many, many years ago, at my childhood house in the Santa Cruz Mountains, I grabbed a shovel and started to dig a hole.

Why? Unclear. I was six or seven. I’d seen what my dad could do with a shovel, so one afternoon….I started digging. By the time evening approached, my dad walked out: “So, whatcha doing there?”

At the time of the hole intervention, I’d been digging for a couple of hours, and while that sounds like a lot of time, I was only two or three feet deep in a hole maybe the size of a picnic table. The removed dirt was tossed carelessly in every direction.

“I’m digging a hole.”

“I see that. Whatcha planning on doing with that hole?”

No real answer at the ready. Like pulling a stick from a stream (Chapter 20, “The Stick in the Stream”), I was mostly enthralled with the act of digging a hole. I dodged his question: “Yeah, I think I’m going to need some wooden columns here at some point. Y’know, to hold the ceiling up when I get that far.”

“Uh huh.” He saw the hole was barely above my knees. And it was getting dark.

“And I am worried about moisture….y’know? Dripping from the cave ceiling.”

“Yeah. I get that.” Barely to my seven-year-old knees.

The digging continued for another hour. I’d discovered blisters (no gloves), and also dirt was now falling back into the hole with each shovelful (no solid dirt extraction plan), but my dad stood there the entire time. Questioning continued.

“Maybe we should get you a wheelbarrow? You could move the ...