Toboggan Nationals
This year, we sent two teams from the shop to the US Toboggan National Championships at the Camden Snow Bowl. We had our Fisherman's Academy team, a group of high school students who come to us from Oceanside East, and the Suzukinis, an apprentice team generously sponsored by Suzuki Sushi Bar.
The day before the competition, both teams went for some practice runs. The video below shows the Fisherman's Academy team working on positioning themselves on the toboggan. The practice seems to have paid off in the end. This year, they made it down the run faster than last year, especially during the practice runs on Friday morning. Even though none of our teams took home a trophy, we all had fun, and even caught some fish out on the ice!
Some of the Suzukinis were interviewed about their experience on the Chris Wolf show. You can see the interview here.
The timing of this video feels fitting. Spending the majority of my days at home now, I have a lot of time to think and read, walk and work in my garden, mud and sand unfinished walls, etc. I have wanted this time in some respects. But it has also made me appreciate the now-absent-in-the-flesh community I usually spend my days immersed in. It hadn’t quite occurred to me just how many people I interact with on a daily basis, or how much these interactions enrich my life. Despite the fact that I've been chatting with friends, coworkers, and family members over the phone, the quality of this kind of socializing feels very, very different from talking to people who are right there with me.
In Barbara Tversky’s book Mind in Motion: How Action Shapes Thought, which I have been reading this week, she explains the role of mirror neurons in coordinating action between people. This applies to actions taken to complete a shared task. This also applies to conversation. “In actuality, conversation partners do not just coordinate the content and the timing of the conversation, they also coordinate aspects of their behavior that do not at first seem relevant to the conversation. They coordinate their actions, leaning forward to take the stage or backward to yield the stage, crossing or uncrossing their legs. They mimic each other’s words and phrases, even accents. They copy each other’s facial expressions, eye gaze, and body movements. These seemingly irrelevant behaviors turn out not to be irrelevant; they serve as 'social glue,' showing and promoting mutual understanding, thereby enhancing communication and cooperation” (29-30). I suppose this might explain some of why a phone call doesn’t transmit the same feeling of closeness as an in-person conversation.
Chris' video also feels relevant in a different way. It highlights the things that feel so important to me about the kind of education we offer at the ‘Shop, the kind of environment we try to create. As an apprentice and now, in my current role, I've appreciated how much the work has taught me about myself, how much it has pushed me to deal with uncertainty and lack of control, how it has helped me become more confident in my ability to tackle problems, even if I can’t always see my way through the fog. Last night, Bella, our Executive Director, sent the following text message to staff members, and I think she put it eloquently: “While it may seem our little boat shop is minimally relevant when many lives are going through upheaval, please remember that what we hope to inspire, model, and teach is endurance, resourcefulness, and human ingenuity in the face of challenge. We may be more relevant than ever in the coming days."
Though this time seems difficult for everyone in some shape or form, I’ve seen many examples of caring and connection worm their way through the anxiety. Businesses and restaurants have tried to find creative ways of offering their services and providing comfort, some sort of normalcy amid this deviation from normal life. Teachers are reaching out to students, friends are reaching out to each other, neighbors to neighbors, checking in to make sure the people they care for and live near have enough to eat, have enough to read, have someone to ask how their day is going. While looking at the silver lining might seem like a small consolation in the face of all the damage and pain that is likely headed our way or has already arrived, it feels like one of the most necessary. As Susan says, “Every part of this shows that we need, how we depend on community. We’re all in this together and this is just a very, very tangible way to experience that.”