I Have No Choice

October 30, 2023

I’m not looking forward to winter. Oh. I enjoy the winter woods and winter woods activities. What I don’t enjoy about winter is that it gets dark earlier. It’s a lot longer from sundown to putting my head down for the night. The ramifications of longer evenings are a tough reality inherent in this life-transition that has been imposed upon me.

Copious amounts of 86 Proof Puerto Rican liquor sedated me throughout last fall, winter, and spring of this year. Double shots. Straight up. Chase it with some beer. Often until one or two in the morning. And that last double? I would spike it with something to knock me out so I could go to sleep.

I’ve been off the liquor for several months now and drink very little beer these days. It feels great not waking up with a hangover and the other complications that come with drinking beyond excessively over that length of time. I’ve moved beyond that and feel no inclination toward it. This winter will be devoid of 86 Proof.

I’ve had to ponder a question a few times lately. The question? It’s one that pops into my head when I’m encountering people wherever I go. And I ask myself, “What would my life look like today had I gone about life in the much more standard and conventional way?”

There is a part of me that wants to be a little envious of setting down deep roots and staying in one place.

There can be a lot of good fruit in that. But my life has never been conventional or standard. I think that a lot of my unconventional modus operandi is associated with my childhood and youth. I experienced a lot of embarrassing rejection in the public-school social arena. There was a definite “has” and “has not” thing involved. Early on, I met the caste that I had been cast into. I developed my own coping mechanisms to deal with broader society and the issues it presented.

Oh. And there was the Hippy Movement and the British Invasion that brought a beat and sound to music that was spot-on for the age. It’s not that American rock bands weren’t cranking out some great sounds and great tunes. Those guys were doing an awesome job pioneering new sounds and lyrics that motivated people to live unconventionally. Sure. There were extravagances and excesses. I dare say that the extravagances and excesses housed within the way of life of these revolutionaries in the sixties and seventies can’t hold a candle to the extravagances and excesses that exist in this post-modern era.

Then there is that other part of me that says, “But what an adventure this life of mine has been!”

Good golly. I’ve lived in three countries and eleven states. I’ve seen things, experienced things, and lived things that the vast majority never will. A few of these things I pray never enter into the life-repertoire of another person.

I've been shot at twice and had knives pulled on me twice. I’ve seen the Northern Lights. Numerous times I’ve been amazed at the phosphorescence in the tail wash reaching as far as I could see while standing on the stern of a trawler at night.  I’ve been stalked by a four-legged cougar on the Cumberland Plateau. I’ve stared a large barracuda in the face at close distance while snorkeling off the Grand Bahama. It was dialed in on the flash of my Army dog tags that hung around my neck. I’ve drilled holes in three feet of ice and fished through them on frozen lakes in Canada. Once, in Canada, I skinned a black bear with just my pocket knife. The bear measured six-foot two from tip of nose to tip of tail. It made a great rug and conversation piece. Oh. There's so much more. 

Then along came Shirli in the fall of 1998. Ha. What an adventure she and I had together.

If I am going to be true to myself, I have no choice. If I am going to honor Shirli’s memory as best I can, I have no choice. I have to keep living the way I know how to not just survive but live and look forward to living. I have to keep living my life where the edge of uncertainty that is part of adventure is alive and present. That edge is an enticing lure. Its aroma is exciting. Especially for someone who has rambling fever in his soul.