If one does not climb tall mountains, one cannot view the plains. – Chinese proverb
When you encounter people who obsess about minutiae such as calculating the proportions of Barbie dolls, or who claim to have been mortally injured by dumb jokes, do you find yourself thinking that they must not have any real problems in their lives? I know I do, and in fact I have a name for the phenomenon: Driskill Mountain syndrome. What’s that, you say? You’ve never heard of Driskill Mountain? This fabled peak is the loftiest prominence in my home state; here’s a photo of its Himalayan majesty:
Driskill Mountain soars above the surrounding countryside by 69 meters (225’); its apex is thus a dizzying 163 meters (535’) above sea level. Oh, you may laugh, but in Louisiana that’s the closest thing we have to a mountain (and nomenclature notwithstanding, it would be called a hill anywhere else). See, Louisiana is just about the flattest state in the union (by some measures it loses to Florida), so a person who had lived his entire life there might indeed be impressed with poor Mt. Driskill’s rather anemic eminence…though virtually nobody else would, and in many places a point of that altitude would constitute a valley, or even a pit.
Every person’s life is different from everyone else’s; some lives are smooth and flat, while others are as full of ups and downs as a young mountain range. I once knew a girl whose great trauma, the most horrible thing that had ever happened to her (by her reckoning), was that when she was about 12 one of her adult neighbors made a sort of pass at her. He didn’t touch her, and she realized it wasn’t right and never let herself be alone with him again. But the rest of her life was so wholly flat and uneventful that this non-event stuck out in sharp relief. On the other hand, my second roommate at UNO was molested by her own father for over three years, and another friend lost her virginity to a rapist at gunpoint. I never ridiculed the first girl nor belittled her experience, despite the fact that even my lesser traumas were several orders of magnitude worse; in her Louisianaesque life, Mt. Driskill was as high as it got.
If everyone blessed with a flat life were also blessed with a sense of perspective, there would be no problem; such people could look upon those with rougher lots and say, “There but for the grace of God go I.” Alas, this isn’t usually what happens; instead, they angrily insist that Driskill is indeed a mountain in the literal sense, and that those who tell them of Everest, Denali and Kilimanjaro are either lying or exaggerating. They insist on recognition of its place among the giants, and demand sympathy for the colossal impediment it represents in the landscape of their lives. We might even be able to humor them on this account, except for one thing: those who actually abide in mountainous regions tend to say little about it, with the result that one who didn’t know better might believe that Driskill was indeed taller than Aconcagua, and conclude that mountaineers and equipment were more vitally needed in Louisiana than in the Andes.
One Year Ago Today
“The Versatile Blogger Award” is a device by which bloggers draw attention to each other, and an opportunity for me to tell you seven things about myself you may not have known.
Is it Driskill Mountain Syndrome – or is it just an overpowering urge to “fit in” with today’s “victim culture”?
You can go online and find forums of crybaby men lamenting the fact that their lives have been destroyed because their parents … uhm … circumcised them when they were just babies. I think I even read a story where one guy, who was afraid of bullies, attributed it to the fact that he experienced great pain when he was circumcised which must somehow live in his subliminal thoughts – ensuring he’s fucked up for life!! LOL
We had everyone here in Louisiana standing in line as “victims” of the BP Oil Spill – which, in fact – has turned out to be one big, huge environmental NOTHINGBURGER!
Victims are protected and victims are PAID in this culture. Victims are given warm hugs by society so people find ways to get those hugs by lining up in the “victim line”.
LOL – the day I give any man the power to make me a “victim” is the day I slit my wrists!
It is an unfortunate human tendedency to view the immediate obstacles as the worst, and one’s own suffering to be the most terrible.
Which is why the Chinese have another saying –
“For every mountain, there is a higher one.”
Humility in all things.
When people find out my past- On my own young, ex-sex workers, all that, they expect a sob story. They find it quite frustrating when I tell them it was quite a good time, and that I miss it, and that had I the chance, I’d do it all again, and more so. I see myself more as victor than victim. I was able to survive by my wits (or tits) and do quite well despite whatever life threw at me. Certainly, there were some tough, and scary times, but I muddled through all right.
I give credit to my upbringing. I was raised with the idea that life didn’t just hand out everything one wanted or needed, and that one had to keep a stiff upper lip and make the best of what one could get, Always keep your eye on the advantage, and work towards it, but that whinging on wouldn’t get you there. My heroes at the time were those who built an empire, against all odds. (Terribly out of political fashion now.)
My British relatives are still amused by the American propensity to “confessional” television shows. They ridicule us for so many going on shows like Oprah to play the cry baby. But they admit they’ve more than their share of the work-shy, the gormless whiners there, too.
They ridicule us for so many going on shows like Oprah to play the cry baby. But they admit they’ve more than their share of the work-shy, the gormless whiners there, too.
It’s all about the Jeremy Kyle – unfortunately.
Well I have been reading your comments for quite a long time and I can tell you that I deeply admire your courage. I’ve recently become aware (heh, yeah cuz I’m a dumb ass) that moral courage is a lot harder and lot more rare than physical courage. I saw a lot of very bad things in Afghanistan and Iraq and I thought I was a really strong guy for coming through them well adjusted.
Your experiences, along with Maggie’s – have taught me that my experiences are NOTHING. I always had people who supported me and I never had to once go through any kind of shit alone. In fact, when I look back at my life and the personal issues I faced that may have been semi-similar to yours and Maggie’s – I’m not real happy with the moral courage I displayed in some cases.
You have no idea what an “epiphany” this has been for me. Although I’ve always felt that women were superior to men because they were just better humans – and had a capacity for goodness that men lacked …
I’ve still always felt that women were spared the really HARD things – because those were left for men to deal with. I was wrong about that though – because, as a man (and a big one) – if someone “slights” me or someone I love, I have a physical “option” that I can resort to in order to make myself feel better. When 911 happened – I was pissed off beyond belief. Getting up off the floor and lifting my chin and continuing with life wasn’t an option for me. I wanted to kill terrorists – many of them. And there were other guys like me who wanted to do likewise. Even though the odds were always in our favor – we didn’t give a shit – we’d have faced those guys hand-to-hand if need be and we never hid behind a woman or child like they did.
But none of that is real courage. Real courage, is like what Maggie did after she was raped by cops – when the only thing she could do was get up off the floor – lift her chin – and move on with life without allowing those cops to “win” by getting her to quit on the game – or changing the way she played it.
And I have seen a lot of that kind of courage in your comments too there, Chick.
I’m not sure how much of mine is courage and how much just plain Celtic hardheadedness, but I deeply appreciate the compliments. 🙂
I don’t think I’ve thought of it as courage, that’s something people like you and Lord Nelson had. I tend to think of it more as just getting on with things, and doing what you need to do. And really, that seems to be a key to life, just getting on with it.
Yes, I think that’s it exactly. My friend Walter’s mother, Kay, used to say that she never understood this whole talk of “coping” one hears nowadays; one simply concentrated on doing what one had to do, or as you say “getting on with it”. That’s why she accepted my stripping when my own mother didn’t; like me she saw it as a solution to a problem, while my mother saw it as a problem in itself.
Well – if it’s not courage – then it’s something better. Physical courage – really isn’t that hard to deal with because, in the case of Lord Nelson and people like me – we’re never on the “outside”. Death is one thing – everyone dies and no one can escape that. However, it takes a special person to be willing to live one’s life “on the outside” cut off from the approval of society at large.
You may not think that is courage – but it is.
I’ve struggled all my life feeling that I’m on top of Everest whilst everyone is still mucking about on Driskill. I’ve gotten better at relating to people and coming out of my shell – but I still have nagging doubts that people still don’t quite ‘get’ me if that makes any sense.
As one of my more favourite songs state: ‘you grow up quick, when you grow up poor’.
No one I think is in my tree,
I mean it must be high or low,
That is you can’t you know tune in but it’s alright,
That is I think it’s not too bad.
– Strawberry Fields, The Beatles
A tree isn’t a mountain, but yeah.
That’s a good analogy and you make a good point. On the other hand, I’ve had people with Everests in their lives belittle my experiences on Driskill. In their opinion, if it’s not Everest, it’s *nothing*. People with smaller traumas are shushed or even pressured to shut up by people who’ve had to go through worse.. So I guess us Driskill climbers might get a bit defensive, “well maybe it’s not Everest, it’s still a mountain!”.
I totally agree. As I said, I never belittled the girl with the lesser trauma; it was STILL the highest mountain in her state, even if it wasn’t very tall to others.
I personally think you should have said something to her.
This kind of “syndrome” leads to destructive behavior and decisions.
Like with my extended family and all their little Driskill Mountain “tragedies” like my minister cousin cheating on his wife (one time) or my niece getting pregnant in her senior year of high school and everything just turns into one great big “boo hooo” fest. They tend to feed on the “tragedy” until a point just shy of going over the cliff of irreparable harm. And my family is pretty sane – I’ve seen many others turn little issues into permanent disasters.
You know what I’m talking about too Maggie – with your Mom.
A young, dead Marine who has to be pulled off a field in pieces – that’s a tragedy. A young kid laying dead in a morgue who has to be identified from tattoos because the auto accident completely fucked his face is a tragedy. A good kid who wipes out and dies on a motorcycle and leaves five year old twin baby girls behind to grow up without a father is a tragedy.
I had an Admiral, who was a former TopGun instructor tell me once … “As long as you keep the bad guy on your nose – you’re winning, anywhere else – and you are losing the dogfight”. Life is one, big long dogfight – but unlike a dogfight – you get shot, and you have to get right back into it and keep fighting. Soooo – the only time you’re “losing” is when you are sitting in worthless heap of tears lamenting your situation.
Some people are just determined to be outraged, it seems. They’ve decided that the evil Patriarchy is out to get them, or at least make them feel bad, so they’re constantly looking for its next wicked plot. Unfortunately for all of us, if someone looks hard enough for a reason to be angry, they’ll find one. No Everest in your life? Then get upset over the Driskill, because what is life without outrage?
I just like to say that even though we disagree politically, I still admire your thinking and appreciate the effort you put into your blog. This is a really eloquent article and I find it very cool.
Thank you, Notch; Friday’s column will explain how much I appreciate statements like that one. 🙂
I was raised in the area, and I remember that there , I met my Great Aunt Cliffie Driskill. Again as a child. It was long ago. I don’t know if you know the family history of the folk in Bienville Parish, but I’m related to a few to say the least. It is a beautiful part of Louisiana, and a part of me. it’s good to see your roots. Thanks