I’ve enrolled myself and my eight-year-old daughter in a rock climbing class…
My theory is, I might as well do it with her, ’cause she’s just going to end up doing it herself. The local parks and rec. community center has this really great climbing wall, you even get to climb upsidedown. When my daughter saw it, I could see the glint in her eye.
Now, I told my mother about this and – of course – she related it back to Theresa (and I don’t mind at all – I live for these little scattered tidbits). Theresa was a bit of a daredevil. She used to rock climb; once went straight up the sheer face of Mt. Orford.
Then there was the skydiving incident. Terry Roth swears that my parents never knew of this, but my mother tells a different story. Theresa was sixteen. One day my mom gets a phone call,
“Yes, can you tell Theresa there’s a spot open for her on the skydive this Saturday in the Laurentians…”
My mother never said a word. Let her go through with it like it was her own idea. Theresa later confessed and said it was the greatest thrill of her young life.
I love these stories. They make me want to do things fully. In 1997, my brother, Andre and I took a hike through the Grand Canyon. From South end to the North face. Three days in the wilderness. This was not like us. Neither of us are that outdoorsy. It was never spoken. It was implicit. The hike was for Theresa.