I stood there in frightened paralysis staring at the Barlow flag flapping gently in the winter wind.
I was talking myself into believing my neighbours would not mind this piece of sheet metal glimmering in the winter sun if I simply told them it was my family flag. Aye, I am John Barlow from the rusty sheet metal clan of Saskatchewan.
If I could sell this line of hooey I could get the heck off my garage before I killed myself.
The insane wind storms which swept through the Foothills in November ripped the sheet metal covering off my chimney and it sounded like a winter storm every night as the wind had it snapping like cracks of thunder on my roof.
I had two choices: either just leave it and hope everyone — including my wife — believed it was my ancestral flag waving proudly above my house or get up on the second storey roof of my house and fix it.
Option two was less than favourable as I am deathly afraid of heights.
I contemplated these two options for a week. Each day coming up with a new excuse to avoid making a decision. It is too dark, it is too icy, it is too windy.
Surely, the wind would eventually change direction and plop it right back on its perch.
Finally on Saturday a winter blizzard in the forecast forced my hand.
I dusted off my ladder, filled my pockets with nails, screws, duct tape and a glue stick. I told my daughter I loved her, left a note for my next of kin and got up on the garage to take a look at the flailing family sheet metal flag.
I crawled to the top of the garage and peaked up onto the second floor to see the damaged chimney — it seemed so close and yet so far away.
For several minutes I just stood there staring at the metal hanging precariously from the chimney.
What now? I wanted to get up there, but my arms and legs were stubbornly frozen in place. I should have at least worn a Santa costume as I am sure I looked like a Christmas ornament perched on my garage.
How long could I possibly stand there?
Then, I don’t know what came over me, but I realized I had to be a man.
I slithered back to the ladder and hauled it up to get to the second level. It broke in half and the bottom fell loudly to the ground.
Undeterred, I took the other half and used it to gingerly make my way to the second storey.
Once up I slowly stood and made my way to the chimney to hammer my sheet metal flag back into place.
I did it. I looked around towering over my Cimarron neighbourhood proudly waving my Home Hardware hammer in victory — master of my domain!
Thankfully, I also had my cell phone.
“Honey, daddy is stuck on the roof. Would you mind calling 9-1-1.”
