Ramblings from a Human Compass

Me wandering near Oak Creek

I host an internal compass. Born with it. I remember long before there were any seat belt laws, lying down in the back of Mom's wood-sided pinto wagon, coming back from Nana's at night, and I could tell when she took a wrong turn just from watching the power lines and street lights. I would shoot up and get her back on track for the 30 mile trip between East Boston and Tewksbury. This happened quite a bit between ages eight and getting my license, and it turned out to be a nice natural talent to have.

My internal compass has treated me well, starting with long bike trips to my Dad's apartment on the weekends, hiking all over, continuing with road trips with friends after getting my license, and leading to the job of a lifetime. I got paid to roam around scouting and designing the network for several years. Mastered that one.

Brad challenged my ninja skills one day on a site walk. He was a contractor that I was harassing for not bringing any tools, and he was definitely wearing the wrong shoes. Who wears loafers in the middle of the desert? "So which way is North?" he says. I point confidently to North, and pull out my trusty Suunto pocket compass to verify my determination. Jef and Ken were laughing at Brad for doubting me. Next time I saw Brad on a site walk, he had boots on and a new expensive watch with a compass.

Who wears loafers in the middle of the desert?

My sister refers to me as the Dee-Dee (her replacement to the Tom-Tom). Mom just hands me her keys. My husband still thanks me for not just leaving him in Mexico. He insists he would still be trying to find his way back...