Rhonda grew up in North Eastern
Oregon in the mid
80's. In high school, she had everything going for her. She had hair
to die for, totally
tubular day-glo outfits and perfectly fitting
acid wash jeans. All the boys wanted to be the one to take those jeans off and all the girls wanted to be the girl in the jeans.
Rhonda's two older brothers, with their burly shoulders,
curly, jet black hair and muscle t-shirts could attract girls by the car load. They were well-known to Rhonda's friends and would often crash Rhonda's slumber parties by stealing all the attention.
Peter was the oldest at 22. Blond hair, blue eyes and a college wrestling champion's figure. He was Rhonda's friends' favorite. Old enough to buy alcohol for them and cool enough to do it.
Edward, two years younger, was the shy one. He kept mostly to himself but had a smile that could stop hearts. He was intelligent too. A business finance student, Ed had his head on straight all through life. No side roads,
no distractions, Edward took a solid path to get to everything he wanted.
In the
summer, all three would work under their father at his
lumber mill. Jack The
Lumberjack got off to a rough start in the lumber industry. A
city slicker from the
east coast, Jack made a fool of himself the first time he swung an
ax, but soon became the best man the Oregon
Forest Service had to offer. He came to work in north east Oregon and decided to
settle there. A year after Peter was born, he bought the lumber mill in the small town where he resided. From there, he built it into a strong
corporation with ties all around the
west coast.
A year after
Rhonda graduated high school,
everything changed. She was stuck without a clue. She still hadn't started college. She worked full time for her father, doing secretarial work. Rhonda
didn't like it much, but it paid.
She was the one who answered the phone when the news came in. A log truck rolled on a
wet,
winding,
mountain road on a steamy
July morning. Her brother Edward had been at the wheel and her dad was
riding shotgun. The boss was dead as well as two other crew members. Edward was
comatose and a fifth fellow walked out comparatively unharmed.
From that day forward, Rhonda sulked. Peter was no help.
He buried his problems under alcohol. It took Rhonda two years to come out of her
depression. The logging company had been shut down in the mean time, and Rhonda searched for something to do.
Without any schooled skills, Rhonda realized she had to
get out of Oregon. She settled in
California and turned to the only trade that she knew by heart,
lumberjacking.
She showed up at the
Los Angeles Lumber Mill company with an application, full of respectable references. The contractors were nervous at hiring a woman, but had
respected her father enough to give her a chance.
She went to work her first day in a new
flannel shirt and some
ripped up acid wash jeans. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail and tucked into her
father's old hat.
The first few weeks were tough. She suffered through cat calls of "Hey
Dyke-arella!" and "
Dykenstein." The guys' favorite seemed to be "
LesberJack." Soon, however, they re-named her "
LumberJill" when she beat one of the more experienced men by chopping a tree quicker. The nicknames dropped altogether when Rhonda started dating the head foreman,
Sean.
Last spring, my father, Peter, took me out of Oregon for the first time to go see
Santa Monica. There, we watched
the only female lumberjack in Southern California marry Sean. Within the next year, Sean and Rhonda will be assuming control of the Los Angeles Lumber Mill and within the next five years, will have completely bought the company.
She truly is her father's daughter.