My wife Tess has asked me to play along in a game of blog tag. Because I’m a fun, agreeable guy, I’ll comply. Basically, the rules are these:
- Write 6 random things about yourself.
- Link to the person who tagged you.
- Post the rules on your blog.
- Tag 6-ish people at the end of your post.
- Let each person know he/she has been tagged.
- Let the tagger know when your entry is up.
So, here are six things about me:
1) I am not, technically, a high school graduate. Two weeks before graduation, I was arrested at the senior kegger. Normally this kind of thing was punished by probation or community service, but the kegger was held on some forest land owned by the mayor, who was also president of the school board. The primary bonfire at the kegger somehow spread out of control. Owing to some previous infractions, a close friend and myself spent a night in jail and were denied our diplomas. We later viewed the ceremony from outside the gym doors without much regret. I ended up acing the test for the prestigious GED certificate the following fall. But this will be our little secret. (Not pictured: Yours truly.)
2) I’m a regular Cossack in the saddle. Or used to be. I grew up on a ranch at a time when you handled cattle with horses rather than ATVs. I became good at it, and could actually throw a passable lariat. My proudest moment as a teenager was hearing an uncle remark, after watching me and my stepbrother race our horses downhill through heavy timber, that he’d never seen a kid more easy in the saddle. It helped that I had a great horse, whose name was Breeze. (That’s Breeze on the right.)
3) I have a pilot’s license. It’s lapsed now, but I used to rent airplanes and fly them around Montana just to look around. My best memory of flying is circling above a rural school in the Flathead Valley, watching the kids out for recess look up and wave. I attempted to waggle the wings in reply, and almost achieved a power stall in the process. Note to self: When waggling wings, it’s best to be in level flight. (I learned in a Cessna 152 a lot like this one.)
4) My former wife and I once rode the train from El Paso to Mexico City, just on a lark. It was not as much fun as we’d hoped. It was summer and there was no air conditioning. Just before arriving, the porter appeared in our compartment and proceeded to lift up the floor, from which he removed several bottles of bootleg liquor. A few minutes later, a couple of surly federales moved through the train, apparently looking for . . . several bottles of bootleg liquor. When they got to our compartment, we were keenly aware that the floor panel had been improperly replaced. We were thinking hard about that movie Midnight Express, but they only frowned and moved on. We ended up flying home. (That’s us at Teotihuacan.)
5) I’m a crappy guitarist. I’ve owned guitars of one sort or another since I was 16, but I’ve sometimes gone years without playing and am no better at it now than I was then. Big mystery. I keep meaning to teach myself new things, but always end up strumming a tortured version of “Don’t Think Twice, It’s Alright.” Or “House of the Rising Sun,” but I think it’s now illegal to play my version within earshot of any sentient adult. If not, it should be. The only tune I can really pick is the Ventures’ “Walk Don’t Run.” (That’s the guitar my brother built for me)
6) At last count, I own six digital cameras — seven, if you count the one I gave Tess for her birthday. None of them take the kind of pictures you see in National Geographic. Maybe I should get a new one. The cynical might say I’m just not a very good photographer, but the cynical would be wrong. That’s my story, anyway. (All my DSLR gear is Olympus. Don’t ask.)
Since I don’t know that many people with blogs, particularly people who would be interested in this sort of thing, I’ll include some who probably have already participated. And I can only think of five. Sorry.