Wilderness Blues- Ramblings from the Great Land

  I was with my daughter, Autumn yesterday, when she showed me a video clip from Saturday Night Live. I haven't watched the show in years because it became so political that it ceased to be funny. However, the clip she showed me was hilarious. It was a spoof of Yankee candles. It showed guests who had long overstayed their visit, and regardless of numerous hints, they just wouldn't leave the host's home. Finally, he resorted to lighting a candle that stank. Unlike Bayberry or Pumpkin, this candle was Get the ---- out of my house! It came in assorted smells like Rotten egg fart, Old Broccoli in a Plastic Bag, and Sweaty Crocs. It was really quite a hilarious skit, and as I was watching it, an unpleasant memory from my past came charging back into my mind. Some years back, when we were still living in Hoonah, I was working at one of the local stores that sold marine fuel. A fellow who I knew in passing came to the store and asked for some gas for his boat. While he was fuelin

  I suppose one would have to be living under a rock to be unaware of the devastation that the most recent hurricane did to the Southeastern United States about a week ago. One of the hardest hit areas was Asheville, North Carolina, where something like thirty inches of rain fell in the mountains in twenty four hours, leaving an apocalyptic landscape behind. For as long as man has been on the earth there have been natural disasters, and if you haven't lived through one yet, there is a chance, and perhaps a good one, of experiencing one in your lifetime. Regardless of where we live, we either experience drought, floods, hurricanes, tornadoes, mudslides or earthquakes or perhaps other catastrophes that aren't mentioned here. The point I'm trying to make is that none of us is exempt, and while we can watch the news of disasters in a place far away and be glad that it didn't happen to us, we're left with an opportunity to help those in need. I'm reminded of the pass

  Have you ever been going through your day, minding your own business, not hurting anyone, in fact possibly trying to be helpful when the caca hits the fan? I know you have. It happens to everyone; I'm certain of it. What I don't understand is, why does it happen with such regularity to me? When I was living in Hoonah, the only way off the island was either by boat or plane. As most of you know, I happened to be in an airplane that crashed into the water in February. That was more than a -Oh woe is me moment, but I survived it, so life goes on. However, the other way off the island, as I said, was by boat, usually the Alaska Marine Highway system. A ferry. I happened to be on a ferry that broke down so many times in my forty five years there, that the ferry terminal assistants used to ask me when I was planning on traveling, so they could schedule a trip at a different time. When I was writing my first book, I wasn't too familiar with computers. I'm still not, but I gu

  When I was sixteen, I bought my first shotgun. It was an H&R single shot twelve gauge. I wasn't really a hunter, but I thought it would give me a chance to spend more time outdoors when the fishing had slowed down. Though I had originally bought the gun for hunting rabbits or pheasants, or possibly quail, I never thought I'd have to use it on a spider. When the World War II ship I was stationed on in Key West was decommissioned around 1973, I was assigned to a much newer guided missile destroyer in Charleston, South Carolina. I didn't know anything about Charleston, except that it was in a southern state, and I was under the impression that a fellow who hailed from Ohio might not be all that welcome. I'd heard rumors that even though the civil war had been over for more than a hundred years, there were still some tender feelings. My fears were somewhat influenced by having just watched the movie, Deliverance, a few weeks prior to having to make the move. For those

  I was visiting my friend Matt in a recovery facility the other day. I don't really know what to call it, or actually what all they do there. It's kind of like a holding facility for people who have had operations and need a place to recover for a few weeks or months. They provide a private room and meals and have a nursing assistant come and give you meds if you need them. They also have a van to escort people to various places like the doctors or for dialysis. Matt just recently had his left leg amputated. He'd already had the right one taken off some years ago. I won't go in to all of his physical issues. Suffice it to say he's suffered lots in this world, but nonetheless, has one of the best attitudes of anyone I have ever met. In any event, we were visiting. He was wearing a pair of shorts and a T-shirt and sitting in a wheel chair. He started rubbing his recent wound and making moaning sounds. "Hey Tom, hand me that blue tube over there on the counter wo

Once in awhile I hear a country song that touches my heart. Of course there is no shortage of songs about  drinking or cheating but some of the songs are pretty funny. One song talks about the wife hiring a wino to decorate their home so her husband will feel comfortable and not have to go to the bar. Another one by a popular country star is about a fellow who is given an ultimatum. He can either spend the day on the lake fishing or he can be with his wife. He's singing about how he's going to miss her. I more or less understand. Fishing can be as exciting as sex sometimes, and it lasts longer too. When I moved north to Wasilla, I discovered that there was a classic country radio station right here in town, KAYO. Somehow when I was skipping through the various stations on the car radio, we invariably would run across this station, and I discovered that I actually was enjoying what I heard. Unlike the music that the younger generation is listening to, I've never seen a count