My cubby, complete with mint gum to wake me up for those late-night calls. Anyone who has read my “About” page knows that, in addition to being a humor columnist, I’m also a volunteer firefighter — a subject I have purposely avoided in my columns because, let’s face it:
Entering a burning structure with someone who writes about glow-in-the-dark mice isn’t exactly reassuring.
For this reason, I have tried hard to separate my two pursuits. As I’ve discovered, this is a little like trying to separate marshmallows using a blow torch; the longer you keep at it, the more they blend together.
The truth is, once the emergency is over, firefighters are funny — which is why, after three years, many are still asking, “Why haven’t you written about being a firefighter yet?”
Here at the Siuslaw News (Motto:Your dependable source for news. Twice weekly. Unless we lose count), we journalists steadfastly adhere to a strict code when it comes to gathering important national news.
And that code is this: We will never, under any circumstances, have the budget for an Associated Press wire service membership.
Hence, we do not receive hourly updates from news sources around the globe. If we feel the need to go beyond the local scope of a story, we must do so the old-fashioned way, by grabbing our pad and pen (which most of us are pretty good about sharing) and making phone calls until, eventually, another journalist with access to a wire service mistakenly answers their phone. Continue reading Going down to the AP wire against Brian Williams
My daughter on Aug. 11, 2002, surveying the parking lot across from our home, moments before I removed the training wheels from her bike. As a parent, you never think it will happen to you even though, somewhere in the back of your mind, you know the possibility exists. When it does happen, you realize that no amount of preparation can prepare you for something like this.
On Jan. 13, it will happen to me.
Suddenly, and without warning, my oldest daughter will turn 19.
This morning, I came into work early and sat with my cup of coffee. It was my first opportunity to really contemplate this event without interruption or distraction. As I scrolled through old columns I’d written about being a dad, and specifically those about my oldest daughter, I was drawn to this piece I wrote when she was seven. She had just learned to ride her bike without training wheels. As I read it, it struck me how more than a decade later the experience, as well as the advice I had given her, still applies. Continue reading Contemplating life without training wheels
Please forget my advice on improving your posture. We all make mistakes. The difference is, when you make one, you probably don’t get contacted by someone from the American Chiropractic Association in Arlington, Virginia.
Or maybe you do.
In which case you may want to consider folding up this newspaper right now and going in for an adjustment.
But, unless you mistakenly informed readers that last month was “National Correct Posture Month” when, in fact, we’re all free to slouch until May, I’m guessing you’ve never gotten an e-mail from Angela Kargus, Communications and Public Relations Manager for the ACA.
There are two things I know about Angela:
1) She is very nice.
2) She probably has excellent posture.
Building a connection with readers has its drawbacks.From time to time, a column strikes a collective nerve with readers. These readers then respond — in many cases — by calling me collect. After my column “Study reveals male pattern baldness doesn’t include ears”, it’s obvious that excessive ear and nose hair has been on a lot of people’s chests.
And by that I mean in terms of subject matter, not actual hairs falling from men’s ears and noses during the course of conversation, eating or… whatever.
It seems I have become the “go-to” guy when it comes to ear and nose hair confessions. The subject is generally brought up by wives, such as while standing in line at A&W and ordering a chili cheese dog for their husbands. One minute they’re talking about the origin of the Coney dog, the next I’m being told what it’s like trying to carry on a conversation with a spouse who doesn’t seem to notice he has hardened Cheez Whiz in his nostril hair. Continue reading Be careful when picking a topic — especially if it’s your nose
Full-contact bowling could add a whole new meaning to the agony of defeat. Like millions of other red-blooded, unathletic men across America, I will spend a good portion of New Year’s Day sitting on the couch, eating handfuls of assorted snack foods, and whining every time a player from my team makes even the teeniest mistake.
It doesn’t matter that these men are performing feats of athletic skill I can only achieve in my dreams (after which I usually wake up with a pulled groin muscle.) And it doesn’t matter that each of these men possesses more muscle mass than my entire body weight plus a mid-sized SUV.
Speed up your workouts by avoiding eye contact with anyone in better shape than you. Like millions of Americans, I recently stripped down, prepared myself for the worst, and stepped onto the scale. Soon after, I retrieved the scale from the front yard and accepted the fact that, yes — it probably was defective. At my daughter’s suggestion, I tried our neighbor’s scale. This led to the discovery that, of the 23 scales I tested within a five-mile radius of our home, every single one was off by exactly seven pounds. Being a journalist, I had to wonder: Was this a widespread problem? Were we being duped into needless exercise by faulty scales?!
I immediately brought this to the attention of my editor, who, realizing the implications, told me to stay out of her candy drawer.
The truth is, I have no one but myself to blame for putting on these extra pounds. This is why, every year around this time, people just like me make a commitment to start going to the gym. I know this because I recognize most of these people from last year. We all have the same expression: grim determination mixed with a sense of purpose in knowing that, afterward, there’s a KFC right across the street. We come dressed with headbands and towels over our shoulders even though we spend most of our time wandering around the gym looking for water bottles. Continue reading Open contempt for those in better shape is the first step to a healthier you
Behind every great news story is a paper trail. There are few things that can bring a newspaper to a halt when it is facing a deadline. In fact, aside from a natural catastrophe or a critically important breaking news story (Example: Anything related to Dancing with the Stars), nothing stands in the way of our commitment, as journalists, to ensure that the power of the press continues — unless, of course, the unthinkable happens, and we run out of toilet paper in both employee restrooms.
As professionals, this is a scenario we train for. We know how to recognize a potential “situation” that could leave us vulnerable and without back-up. Yet, as we learned today, all it takes is a momentary lapse in resoluteness for things to escalate into a full-blown crisis.
“Has anyone seen Bill?” (Note: The names in this dramatic re-enactment have been changed to protect the innocent, such as myself, from being physically assaulted by “Bill.”) Continue reading At a newspaper, every roll is crucial
Last-minute shopping can be dangerous, especially if there’s a sale. As is our tradition, my wife and I made an excellent plan to get our gift wrapping done so that, on Christmas eve, we could bask in our accomplishment while drinking warm, spiked beverages and gazing introspectively at the twinkling Christmas tree lights, until we pass out.
And, as is our tradition, we once again found ourselves locked in the bedroom with rolls of ribbon and wrapping paper strung across the bed, passing the scissors and tape back and forth like a frantic game of “hot potato.”
As expected, our bedroom quickly resembled a CSI Christmas crime scene in which the holiday spirit had exploded… Continue reading Next year, we’ll do Christmas without the zombies
Don’t let your dislike of fruitcake become a disorder. Recent studies show that mild depression after the holidays is not only common but, in many cases, is the result of FDAD — Fruitcake Disposal Anxiety Disorder. On one hand, your fruitcake was a gift and therefore deserving of some measure of appreciation. On the other hand, it has already become a chew toy for the neighbor’s pit bull. This often leads to feelings of anxiety long after the holidays have ended, particularly when you see “Buster,” still intoxicated with rum, struggling to dislodge the sugar loaf from his tightly-clenched jaws.
So, as a service to our readers, we assembled a group of psychiatrists to help provide insight into dealing with FDAD. At a cost of more than $200 an hour, we held an informative, three-minute discussion to create the following self-help guide:
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