I don’t even want to get rained on.

I’ve had some coffee….and my head is still as empty of ideas as ever.

Dangit, dangit, dangit.

So I looked for the fallback position….the blogging “punt”….the YouTube video….the video that would let my imagination run wild and imagine how much freedom we’d all have if we could move up North….way up North….up to Alaska where a man could still be a man and experience true freedom(!).

While I was doing that, I took a moment to reflect a little….and realized that I’m not really anything close to the kind of person who should be thinking about doing that.

I don’t even want to go out in the rain.

I don’t want to get wet.

And I split plenty of wood…so if it gets a little cold (North Carolina style cold….warm compared to Alaska)….I can get warm pretty easily.

I guess that the fantasy is worth something, though.

Maybe “fantasy” is my euphemism for “fool me”.

I spent a summer working up in Minnesota when I was in High School.

At the end of the summer, I took a bus ride from Minneapolis to Spokane, WA…..across the Dakotas and Montana….Idaho….all the way to Washington….to visit my relatives out there.

It was a good trip.

I sat next to a college student who was going….west….I don’t really remember where he was going…..but I do remember that we talked about the Homesteading law that had either just expired or was getting ready to expire.

I guess that this was the summer of 1978.

I can’t remember when the Homesteading Act ended.

The prospect of getting free land was pretty exciting to me…..I was cheap back then….(I’M STILL CHEAP!!! SO CHEAP!!! THAT’S NOT SOMETHING TO GET EXCITED ABOUT!!! WHY AM I STILL TYPING IN CAPITAL LETTERS?! I SHOULDN’T BE YELLING ABOUT THAT….CHEAPNESS?! NOT GOOD….)

Anyway….I’d risk being eaten by a Grizzly if I thought that it might get me something free.

I guess that Alaska has been on my radar since then.

Maybe the best survival skill is the ability to always figure out how to be happy where you are…..?

Thinking about anything doesn’t get you ready for the reality of a situation, anyway.

I don’t think you know what something’s about until you’re in the “what did I do?” part of the experience, anyway.

Maybe some people learn to swim trying to make it back to the shore…sink or….

Anyway….the only Norwegian that Jenny knew before me was this angry guy who took all his family’s money and ran away to Alaska.

I’m not that man.

Forget what I said about Alaska.

I’m not that guy.

 

About Peter Rorvig

I'm a non-practicing artist, a mailman, a husband, a father...not listed in order of importance. I believe that things can always get better....and that things are usually better than we think.

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