Shock Therapy (Learning to Laugh at Myself)

By nature, I take myself way too seriously.  This is something that I have been working to correct (for years…), but I assure you - I have not completely found the remedy.  There is something to be said for electric shock therapy, though.

 

The Great Battery Cable Mix-up:  It turns out that there are dozens of fuses that exist throughout the entire length of my fantastic little Bayliner 185.  I think I found, checked, and replaced most of them.  Admitting that I reversed the negative and positive cables while installing my boat battery last spring is not easy for me.  The sparks and really cool popping sounds were over in a less than a second, but given my senseless pride (I refused to ask for help), it took me a week to find and fix all of the circuits that I fried.  Of course, the final blown fuse was underneath the engine in a nearly impossible location to reach.  While employing mirrors and long-handled tools, I certainly made up some creative words.  Looking back, it was a very stupid mistake, and a little bit funny.

 

The Great Shock of 1998:  There’s a reason you should hire an electrician.  I had once taken a three month high school course in electrical wiring, and thus, I thought I knew exactly what I was doing.  Shortly after becoming a new homeowner and installing a sliding glass door in an exterior wall (with my brother’s expert help), I decided that I could wire in an outside light with an interior switch (with no help whatsoever).  The details of my exact line configuration aren’t necessarily interesting to note here, however, the resulting effect of misguided wiring bravado may entertain you.  Confident that my new porch light would illuminate on first try, I hit the switch busting with pride, showing off in front of my wife.  Current arced through the plastic switch cover and my body spasmed for several seconds.  In a bout of pure stupidity and unbelief, I hit the switch again (I mean, I couldn’t have wired it incorrectly, right?).  Instead of showing concern that my heart might possibly stop at any second, my lovely bride pointed and laughed hysterically.  I didn’t take it well at the time, but looking back, it was pretty funny.

 

Life is humbling.  I am learning to laugh at myself, especially over the little things that used to baffle me.  There are too many wonderful people out there that are dealing with much more serious stuff that my little issues; and they handle it with grace and a smile.  My heart is especially concerned with three close friends; each fighting their own bouts with cancer.  These are wonderful people; mothers and wives, a father, husband and grandpa, all professionals in their chosen fields, concerned citizens, honest and brave – and they all laugh and share joy rather than whine or cuss. 

 

So the next time that I hit my thumb with a hammer, or fall on my face while walking up the stairs, or shock the heck out of myself (these things will happen to me, I guarantee it), I will try to laugh at myself, and learn something.

 

Hopefully, you will find a few moments of laughter in my new book, Mink Island.  I laughed at myself while writing it.  (Release Date in two days:  July 2^nd – available for eBook download at Amazon and Barnes & Noble)

Memories of Alaskans from my Youth

Growing up on an island in Southeast Alaska was a great experience.  Sure, the weather was horrid, but I was a kid - I didn't know any difference.  I played soccer in the rain, I went fishing in the rain, I drove my motorcycle to school in the rain, and I created a gigantic replica of the Millennium Falcon behind my house out of scrap metal, skunk cabbage and cedar limbs...in the rain.

Other than being extraordinarily damp, my childhood was fairly normal.  Sure, my older brother was flying float planes before I entered junior high and my dad taught me how to gaff an eighty-pound halibut by age twelve, but growing up an Alaskan wasn't too different of an experience than the kids have down here in the lower forty-eight.  (Side Note - One extreme exception to this was learning to drive.  My home town of Ketchikan had less than forty total miles of road system.  The first traffic light didn't get installed until the early 80's.  I still remember the first time I drove in the Seattle area.  I went down a freeway on-ramp to enter I-5 and I just figured that there had to be a stop sign at the bottom of the ramp.  The guy behind me thought I was number one!)

What stands out most in my mind about my youth in Alaska is the extremely interesting cast of characters that surrounded all of us on that remote rock.  There was the kind, elderly native lady that always hitch-hiked around town, the Vietnam Vet that liked to scare tourists, Banjo Bob and his "stomping out" sessions, my buddy Mark that once spent an afternoon throwing dummies off a cliff, the guy that wore the police-siren bicycle helmet, the dude that lived in the tree-house, my buddy who always laughed at life despite being old enough to buy beer before his junior year in high school, the psychotic eighth-grade Science teacher that taught us how to survive in the woods, and countless other colorful people that seemed to gravitate to that island.

It was the recollections of these types of characters from my youth in SE Alaska that inspired many of the characters in my new book, Mink Island.  The novel is a mystery/comedy set in Craig, Alaska on Prince of Wales Island.  Follow Lieutenant Jim Wekle as he attempts to solve the murder of a bikini-clad young lady that he finds floating in the bay on his first day on the island.  You may also get a kick out of the antics of Jim's unlikely counterpart; a man simply known as Kram.

Mink Island will be released soon as an eBook on Amazon.