I’m Not Tarzan, And Kudzu Isn’t For Sissies

As a young child of six years old, one of my favorite television shows on television was Tarzan. Every week this hero of the jungle would save damsels and animals in distress. In addition he could easily dispatch all of the bad poachers and criminals that sought to do evil in the jungle.
However, for most small boys my age the part that we all desired to emulate, was the way he would travel through the jungle, swinging from only the vines that hung from the trees. One by one he would swing until he could grab the next one, and so on.
In the jungle, (pine forest), that grew behind where we lived grew that southern scourge, that has been labeled as covering Dixie like the dew, kudzu. For those unfamiliar, this harmless plant from Asia, brought to the south by wealthy plantation owners, became ever consuming of southern forests across the south. But for me and my circle of friends, those vines hanging from the trees, were as good as the vines that our television hero swung from in the jungles of Africa.
Now, get this picture in your heads. My friends and I go on a deep jungle expedition searching for the perfect vines to swing from. One by one we tug until finally I grab one that seems to be firmly wrapped around the tree tops. Suddenly, after finding that perfect vine this little daredevil, ran as hard as I could, and then leaped as high as I could to grab the vine. With that one jump I grabbed hold and in an instant the vine snapped, and down I went, looking more like “George of the Jungle”, rather than my hero Tarzan.
Not to be dismayed, and especially to quiet the laughter of my friends, I spied another vine. With the determination of a tiger, I jumped even higher this time and one more time I hit the ground with a thud that all could hear. This time however, the laughter got even louder and I’ll be the first to admit that my backside really hurt, but I knew I could not fail, and crying would have resulted in being called a sissy.
From an early age I learned to never give up, and I knew Tarzan would try again, so one more time I made my mind up that I would be the king of my north Georgia jungle. This would be my final attempt, especially since that last fall hurt so much. After finding the perfect vine, I got another running start and as I grabbed hold, the world was great, and I swung for what seemed like miles through those woods, actually it was probably closer to a few feet. Nevertheless, I had beat that evil kudzu and suddenly I was no longer hurting, no one was laughing, and my first two failed attempts were quickly forgotten by all but myself.
Little did I realize among those kudzu filled pine trees behind our house I was learning the power of perseverance, and how to overcome the obstacles that arise in our lives. Most anybody, except my young friends, would have understood if I had stopped after one attempt. However, if I had cut and run, licking my wounds, after only one or even two attempts, I would have never had my Tarzan moment.
Throughout our lives we all have our battles with the kudzu vines, otherwise known as tests and trials, that come in our lives. Sometimes they are quickly dispatched and we can savor the victory, but many times it takes multiple tries to get it right. With each attempt, our fortitude gets stronger and as the world stands laughing, we show that we have the will to overcome the entangled vines that seek to only drop and defeat us.
As for me, on a sunny summer afternoon in the woods behind my north Georgia home, I learned that “I’m not Tarzan, and kudzu isn’t for sissies”. Even more so, I learned that any obstacle can be overcome if I don’t give up after the first or even multiple failures.