Paul and I plan to attend the BMA Ministers Enrichment Weekend in Dayton, Virginia, this weekend.
On Saturday morning (Jan. 31) I'm scheduled to have a book signing at the Kaffee Klatch at the Dayton Farmers Market, from 9 to 11 a.m.
I'd be delighted if you stopped by.
Monday, January 26, 2015
Thursday, January 22, 2015
Truth Is Stranger Than Fiction
This is the story of two separate threads of my week coming together in the most bizarre way.
Yesterday I sent a text to a number I had on my phone, thinking I was contacting Paul's niece. It led to the following conversation.
Text from me: Is it ok if I know your amazing news?!?! Congratulations!
Text to me: Huh?
Text from me: Huh indeed. Surely you are pregnant and it wasn't a false alarm.
[pause]
Text from me: Oh my word. I think my niece changed her number. Forget everything I said.
Text to me: No problem.
[We note here that my phone is set to automatically sign my name at the end of every text.]
Ok, that was kind of embarrassing. But also amusing. So today I posted it on Facebook for all my friends to enjoy and to commiserate about the mis-sent messages of their lives.
Meanwhile.
I've been back and forth via Facebook message with a lady named Elizabeth Witt who works at the Garden Way Retirement Community in Eugene. I'm scheduled to speak there next month, and she had sent me a tax-related form to fill out.
Elizabeth sent me another message today:
"Hi Dorcas! Have you have a chance to fill put the W-9? Please send back a.s.a.p. so we can get in a request for your check. we are very excited to have you here next month"
I wrote back:
"I just did it yesterday so will mail it today. My husband saw it and said, 'Why are you writing to a retirement center?" I said, "I'm putting our application in. You have to book a place way out ahead.""
She wrote:
"HA! I love it!!!!!!!!!!"
I went off to do something else and then I heard the Blip! of a message popping up. I came back and checked. It was from Elizabeth. She wrote.
"Can you call me right now? 541-111-2222
I have something EXTEMELY funny to tell you about your text"
I called immediately, wondering What in the World?
Elizabeth said, "I had the weirdest thing happen just now."
She had just finished her facebook conversation with me, then decided to read my page and see what was up in my life. She read the post about the mis-sent message and started laughing.
The activities director across the hall wondered what was so funny.
She said, "So I'm laughing hysterically and hollering to the activities director and reading your post out loud, and the maintenance man walks in and says, 'Dorcas?? Did you say Dorcas? I got the strangest text from a Dorcas yesterday, wondering if I was pregnant.'"
Un.be.liev.a.ble.
I had goose bumps up my arms by this point and was shaking my head in complete disbelief.
And I was very curious what sort of guy this was. Probably a grandpa type, in his 60s.
Elizabeth said, "He's a single guy in his 40's, a 'young' 40's, you know--an active kind of guy."
Then she added, "I'll be sure to introduce you when you come next month."
As Dave Barry used to say, "You can't make this stuff up."
Yesterday I sent a text to a number I had on my phone, thinking I was contacting Paul's niece. It led to the following conversation.
Text from me: Is it ok if I know your amazing news?!?! Congratulations!
Text to me: Huh?
Text from me: Huh indeed. Surely you are pregnant and it wasn't a false alarm.
[pause]
Text from me: Oh my word. I think my niece changed her number. Forget everything I said.
Text to me: No problem.
[We note here that my phone is set to automatically sign my name at the end of every text.]
Ok, that was kind of embarrassing. But also amusing. So today I posted it on Facebook for all my friends to enjoy and to commiserate about the mis-sent messages of their lives.
Meanwhile.
I've been back and forth via Facebook message with a lady named Elizabeth Witt who works at the Garden Way Retirement Community in Eugene. I'm scheduled to speak there next month, and she had sent me a tax-related form to fill out.
Elizabeth sent me another message today:
"Hi Dorcas! Have you have a chance to fill put the W-9? Please send back a.s.a.p. so we can get in a request for your check. we are very excited to have you here next month"
I wrote back:
"I just did it yesterday so will mail it today. My husband saw it and said, 'Why are you writing to a retirement center?" I said, "I'm putting our application in. You have to book a place way out ahead.""
She wrote:
"HA! I love it!!!!!!!!!!"
I went off to do something else and then I heard the Blip! of a message popping up. I came back and checked. It was from Elizabeth. She wrote.
"Can you call me right now? 541-111-2222
I have something EXTEMELY funny to tell you about your text"
I called immediately, wondering What in the World?
Elizabeth said, "I had the weirdest thing happen just now."
She had just finished her facebook conversation with me, then decided to read my page and see what was up in my life. She read the post about the mis-sent message and started laughing.
The activities director across the hall wondered what was so funny.
She said, "So I'm laughing hysterically and hollering to the activities director and reading your post out loud, and the maintenance man walks in and says, 'Dorcas?? Did you say Dorcas? I got the strangest text from a Dorcas yesterday, wondering if I was pregnant.'"
Un.be.liev.a.ble.
I had goose bumps up my arms by this point and was shaking my head in complete disbelief.
And I was very curious what sort of guy this was. Probably a grandpa type, in his 60s.
Elizabeth said, "He's a single guy in his 40's, a 'young' 40's, you know--an active kind of guy."
Then she added, "I'll be sure to introduce you when you come next month."
As Dave Barry used to say, "You can't make this stuff up."
Saturday, January 17, 2015
Midnight Thoughts on Amy, the New Baby, Tupperware, Shaming, and Grandpa
I had fun reading all the comments on the post about what sort of carryon I should buy. Thanks for all the input, experiences, and even links to cool bags.
My favorite comment came from Amy, who, shall we say, knows my propensities all too well. She emailed me:
If I can weigh in on the carry-on question: I would say if you're taking a laptop, your only good option is something with wheels, because even a good backpack gets heavy fast with that much weight in it. I'd say you should look for a good-quality rolling backpack--don't pull my old Mudd one out of the attic or pick up some ancient thing at a garage sale--that's small enough to fit under the seat in front of you.
Just went snooping on Amazon and found THIS: looks perfect to me! A bit pricey, but hey, an accomplished author needs to travel in style. :) http://www.amazon.com/Travelon-Inch-Wheeled-Underseat-Size/dp/B008I0DJ6G/ref=sr_1_22?s=apparel&ie=UTF8&qid=1421224700&sr=1-22&keywords=rolling+backpack
Oh, little Amy, you are so funny.
My niece Annette and her husband Jay are the proud parents of a baby girl named Liberty Jubilee, the first Yoder great-granddaughter.
Liberty has an older brother, Justice, who was adopted over two years ago.
Annette and Jay know the pain of infertility and both children are miracles. I am one excited auntie...and I get to see them before long, after Paul and I go to Virginia for the BMA Ministers' Enrichment Weekend.
And yes, there are lots of you that I'm looking forward to seeing at MEW, but my sister lives a mile up the road, so I might find it necessary to visit with her a few hours longer rather than listening to "Biblical Preaching: Examining, Explaining, Expounding the Word of God."
I am wondering about Tupperware as a plot point in a novel. So when you wear the traditional white net head covering, it dents and squishes easily. Also, you can tell a lot by what size someone wears. And when you travel, you take your best one along so you're not napping in it in the van and rendering it all dented out of shape.
So, the covering needs to travel in a proper container. We used to use ice cream buckets in our Beachy-Amish days, but Tupperware has so much more panache than a Land o Lakes bucket. And there's such a variety of sizes and such clever names.
"Mom, no. Please," begged Sadie. "Not the ReMarkABowl! How embarrassing!" She set her battered suitcase down with a thud and watched painfully as her mother, Esther, nested all her daughters' church coverings inside her own and then stashed them inside the the large bowl normally used for potato salad on summer evenings. Placidly humming, Esther tucked all the strings safely inside and firmly pushed the lid on top.
"Take this out to the van," she instructed, "and tell Dad to put it on top of the suitcases and not underneath. Connie should be here soon."
"Oh Mom, couldn't you fit them into the biggest Wonderlier at least?"
"Whatever for? Ach, get this stuff out there. And turn off the lights upstairs too."
Sadie sighed and did as her mother asked. Just as she buckled her little brother into his carseat, her cousin Connie came speeding into the driveway and skidded her little Honda to a stop. She hopped out, looking trim and fashionable in a denim skirt and Aero sweatshirt, her hair in a messy bun with a bandana scarf. Then she reached in the back seat of her car for an athletic-looking bag and --was that a little yellow Seal-n-Serve?-yes it was. Unreal. Connie unzipped her bag and tossed it casually inside.
Esther had shooed the last of the children out the door and come down the walk just as this scene unfolded, so she saw everything. She hoisted her large frame into the front seat and turned to Sadie. "Cheer up," she chuckled. "At least I didn't take the Fix-n-Mix!"
On a more serious note, I am wondering: have you ever been pulled aside and told that you ought to rectify a certain behavior because people are talking?
It happened to me once or twice, in my single days, when I still absorbed shame like Bounty soaks up spilled coffee.
It didn't occur to me to say that if we have to change our ways because people are talking about us, then things are twisted about 15 ways away from righteousness.
I heard the phrase again recently regarding someone else. "Do you know what's going on with 'Julius?'" someone asked me. "I'm hearing things about him, and I'm worried. And people at Shedd Mennonite are talking."
It brought back that deep shame of being the talked about, and once again my mouth froze in place when it should have said, "And why in the world is this any business of yours or mine or theirs?"
I wonder if this tactic is unique to traditional cultures like us Anabaptists. I suppose it happens in the royal family as well. And in big extended families in Yemen where you have to keep the family honor.
All I know is that it makes me boil up inside like my stomach is full of baking soda and I just drank a bottle of vinegar.
It's wrong, people.
If someone has a problem, go talk to them.
In a nice way. You know, like Jesus. "Hey Zacchaeus, good to see you. I'd like to honor you and be your friend."
If "people" are "talking" to you, tell them you don't want to hear it.
And don't use that vague phrase and all its ungodly implications as a threat.
And if you're one of those people, then stop talking.
And repent, lest a worse thing come unto thee.
And on a happier note, if you're on Facebook, you might recall the picture I posted last summer when my dad discovered Calvin and Hobbes.
When Matt was home, I found out that he had posted the picture on Reddit, a whole other universe on the web where people post things and discuss them to great lengths. And instead of facebook's "likes", you can up-vote or down-vote an entry.
So Matt posted his grandpa's picture in a Calvin & Hobbes board, and also on a Awwww board.
Each one got over 2000 upvotes.
Grandpa has no clue of this, and never will, but it made me happy.
My favorite comment came from Amy, who, shall we say, knows my propensities all too well. She emailed me:
If I can weigh in on the carry-on question: I would say if you're taking a laptop, your only good option is something with wheels, because even a good backpack gets heavy fast with that much weight in it. I'd say you should look for a good-quality rolling backpack--don't pull my old Mudd one out of the attic or pick up some ancient thing at a garage sale--that's small enough to fit under the seat in front of you.
Just went snooping on Amazon and found THIS: looks perfect to me! A bit pricey, but hey, an accomplished author needs to travel in style. :) http://www.amazon.com/Travelon-Inch-Wheeled-Underseat-Size/dp/B008I0DJ6G/ref=sr_1_22?s=apparel&ie=UTF8&qid=1421224700&sr=1-22&keywords=rolling+backpack
Oh, little Amy, you are so funny.
My niece Annette and her husband Jay are the proud parents of a baby girl named Liberty Jubilee, the first Yoder great-granddaughter.
Liberty has an older brother, Justice, who was adopted over two years ago.
Annette and Jay know the pain of infertility and both children are miracles. I am one excited auntie...and I get to see them before long, after Paul and I go to Virginia for the BMA Ministers' Enrichment Weekend.
And yes, there are lots of you that I'm looking forward to seeing at MEW, but my sister lives a mile up the road, so I might find it necessary to visit with her a few hours longer rather than listening to "Biblical Preaching: Examining, Explaining, Expounding the Word of God."
I am wondering about Tupperware as a plot point in a novel. So when you wear the traditional white net head covering, it dents and squishes easily. Also, you can tell a lot by what size someone wears. And when you travel, you take your best one along so you're not napping in it in the van and rendering it all dented out of shape.
So, the covering needs to travel in a proper container. We used to use ice cream buckets in our Beachy-Amish days, but Tupperware has so much more panache than a Land o Lakes bucket. And there's such a variety of sizes and such clever names.
"Mom, no. Please," begged Sadie. "Not the ReMarkABowl! How embarrassing!" She set her battered suitcase down with a thud and watched painfully as her mother, Esther, nested all her daughters' church coverings inside her own and then stashed them inside the the large bowl normally used for potato salad on summer evenings. Placidly humming, Esther tucked all the strings safely inside and firmly pushed the lid on top.
"Take this out to the van," she instructed, "and tell Dad to put it on top of the suitcases and not underneath. Connie should be here soon."
"Oh Mom, couldn't you fit them into the biggest Wonderlier at least?"
"Whatever for? Ach, get this stuff out there. And turn off the lights upstairs too."
Sadie sighed and did as her mother asked. Just as she buckled her little brother into his carseat, her cousin Connie came speeding into the driveway and skidded her little Honda to a stop. She hopped out, looking trim and fashionable in a denim skirt and Aero sweatshirt, her hair in a messy bun with a bandana scarf. Then she reached in the back seat of her car for an athletic-looking bag and --was that a little yellow Seal-n-Serve?-yes it was. Unreal. Connie unzipped her bag and tossed it casually inside.
Esther had shooed the last of the children out the door and come down the walk just as this scene unfolded, so she saw everything. She hoisted her large frame into the front seat and turned to Sadie. "Cheer up," she chuckled. "At least I didn't take the Fix-n-Mix!"
On a more serious note, I am wondering: have you ever been pulled aside and told that you ought to rectify a certain behavior because people are talking?
It happened to me once or twice, in my single days, when I still absorbed shame like Bounty soaks up spilled coffee.
It didn't occur to me to say that if we have to change our ways because people are talking about us, then things are twisted about 15 ways away from righteousness.
I heard the phrase again recently regarding someone else. "Do you know what's going on with 'Julius?'" someone asked me. "I'm hearing things about him, and I'm worried. And people at Shedd Mennonite are talking."
It brought back that deep shame of being the talked about, and once again my mouth froze in place when it should have said, "And why in the world is this any business of yours or mine or theirs?"
I wonder if this tactic is unique to traditional cultures like us Anabaptists. I suppose it happens in the royal family as well. And in big extended families in Yemen where you have to keep the family honor.
All I know is that it makes me boil up inside like my stomach is full of baking soda and I just drank a bottle of vinegar.
It's wrong, people.
If someone has a problem, go talk to them.
In a nice way. You know, like Jesus. "Hey Zacchaeus, good to see you. I'd like to honor you and be your friend."
If "people" are "talking" to you, tell them you don't want to hear it.
And don't use that vague phrase and all its ungodly implications as a threat.
And if you're one of those people, then stop talking.
And repent, lest a worse thing come unto thee.
And on a happier note, if you're on Facebook, you might recall the picture I posted last summer when my dad discovered Calvin and Hobbes.
So Matt posted his grandpa's picture in a Calvin & Hobbes board, and also on a Awwww board.
Each one got over 2000 upvotes.
Grandpa has no clue of this, and never will, but it made me happy.
Monday, January 12, 2015
The Perfect Carryon
I have two trips coming up, and I need a carryon bag.
A good carryon, a perfect carryon, a nice carryon, that, if it rolls, does so smoothly, and if it is to be carried, does not make my one shoulder permanently two inches lower than the other before I get to the Made in Oregon store on Concourse C.
So I need advice. What sort of carryon do you like best? And why?
I almost always fly Southwest, as bags fly free, so I don't try to carry a week's clothing and dental floss in my carryon bag. I check my suitcases, which are usually 1/3 clothes for the trip and 2/3 walnuts for Dad or books for a signing, or, in this case, the triple crock pot arrangement that Steven got Matt for Christmas. And that didn't fit in his carryon.
So. It needs to hold:
a laptop computer in a padded case
a blanket (important)
pens
food
a water bottle
a notebook or two
a book or two
a few magazines
all the mission newsletters I save up for reading en route
a neck pillow
a little teapot and teacup and tea bags [indulge me here]
I have a smallish crossbody bag for things like my ID, earplugs, money, etc.
If I fly, it's always a long-distance, all-day ordeal. No short hops and I'm there. Often the first leg is several hours to Phoenix or Denver, then a few hours of waiting, then another flight to Dulles or Minneapolis.
And of course flying overseas takes three times as long.
I like carryon bags that I can stick under the seat in front of me, since we vertically challenged people find it hard to hoist bags into the overhead bins, and I like to access my stuff en route. But that's not absolutely essential.
At times I've used Paul's nice rolling computer bag. It's great for flat things like notebooks and computers, and bad for round things like teacups and bulky things like a blanket.
Those miniature suitcases hold all my things but they're hard to slide under the seat or access en route.
If that's what you use, do you prefer soft sides or hard? Two wheels or four?
Do I want a backpack?
A rolling backpack despite the housewife-returning-to-college look?
Or one of those big Vera-Bradley-esque oversized purses? Or are they too heavy to haul around?
Or maybe a basic duffel bag?
Or does your basic tote bag work best? Some of them are really cute, such as this one featuring a cat who can sympathize with my SAD.
I'd love to know what works for you.
Quote of the Day:
Me: [reading a piece of paper lying near the computer] "Fire-Breathing Rubber Duckies??"
Ben: It's the name of my design team. Not my idea, but some suggestions were rather perverted, so I preferred that.
Me: Indeed.
A good carryon, a perfect carryon, a nice carryon, that, if it rolls, does so smoothly, and if it is to be carried, does not make my one shoulder permanently two inches lower than the other before I get to the Made in Oregon store on Concourse C.
So I need advice. What sort of carryon do you like best? And why?
I almost always fly Southwest, as bags fly free, so I don't try to carry a week's clothing and dental floss in my carryon bag. I check my suitcases, which are usually 1/3 clothes for the trip and 2/3 walnuts for Dad or books for a signing, or, in this case, the triple crock pot arrangement that Steven got Matt for Christmas. And that didn't fit in his carryon.
So. It needs to hold:
a laptop computer in a padded case
a blanket (important)
pens
food
a water bottle
a notebook or two
a book or two
a few magazines
all the mission newsletters I save up for reading en route
a neck pillow
a little teapot and teacup and tea bags [indulge me here]
I have a smallish crossbody bag for things like my ID, earplugs, money, etc.
If I fly, it's always a long-distance, all-day ordeal. No short hops and I'm there. Often the first leg is several hours to Phoenix or Denver, then a few hours of waiting, then another flight to Dulles or Minneapolis.
And of course flying overseas takes three times as long.
I like carryon bags that I can stick under the seat in front of me, since we vertically challenged people find it hard to hoist bags into the overhead bins, and I like to access my stuff en route. But that's not absolutely essential.
At times I've used Paul's nice rolling computer bag. It's great for flat things like notebooks and computers, and bad for round things like teacups and bulky things like a blanket.
Those miniature suitcases hold all my things but they're hard to slide under the seat or access en route.
If that's what you use, do you prefer soft sides or hard? Two wheels or four?
Do I want a backpack?
A rolling backpack despite the housewife-returning-to-college look?
Or maybe a basic duffel bag?
Or does your basic tote bag work best? Some of them are really cute, such as this one featuring a cat who can sympathize with my SAD.
I'd love to know what works for you.
Quote of the Day:
Me: [reading a piece of paper lying near the computer] "Fire-Breathing Rubber Duckies??"
Ben: It's the name of my design team. Not my idea, but some suggestions were rather perverted, so I preferred that.
Me: Indeed.
Sunday, January 11, 2015
Things On My Mind
Some things I've been thinking about:
1. Football.
I used to hate football with a perfect hatred. An "I count them mine enemies" sort of hatred. I actually played flag football myself back when P.E. was required and mysadistic oblivious P.E. teachers thought this was a good idea but somehow never thought to set this Amish girl down and explain how the game worked.
So I played it for six falls without understanding what a "down" was or what we were doing.
Did I mention my intense hatred for this game? I also failed a written test on the subject, a black mark on an otherwise stellar high school career.
Then I married a guy who liked sports of every kind. And later I had children who did also, and who loved the University of Oregon Ducks.
In the gentle simmering soup of a loving family, I learned about football. I know about downs and extra points and touchdowns and fumbles. There's a lot I don't know, but I can listen to a game with the kids and enjoy it and understand enough to follow the general plot.
Love and kindness make all the difference, people.
And now there's Marcus Mariota, the Ducks' quarterback. In a world of college sports where there's way too much arrogance, entitlement, covering up of alleged crimes, and shady deals, Marcus stands out as humble, self-effacing, and consistently of upstanding character. And of excellence.
So yes, that miserable little Amish girl, shuffling around on that high school football field hoping no one would expect anything out of her, she'll be following the national championship game on Monday.
I don't know enough about the other team to make any sort of prediction about the outcome.
But I do know I wish that, since they go to the same university, that Emily could, you know, kind of end up in a class or group with Marcus Mariota.
Just as a mom, I kind of wish that. As do probably 5000 other moms out there.
2. Children coming and going.
There's no way I want all of my six to live at home until they're 45. There comes a time when it isn't healthy. And once they're all out of the house I'll finally get to putter around making quilts all day.
Except. . . I kind of want them to stay home forever.
Matt and Amy were at home, and then they left. I think, weepily, "I know they're happy and fulfilled, but I just LIKE having them home."
To quote from Pride and Prejudice:
"'The loss of her daughter made Mrs. Bennet very dull for several days. '`I often think,' said she, `that there is nothing so bad as parting with one's friends. One seems so forlorn without them.'''
3.Danger. I linked an article on Facebook about a guy from Idaho who was into extreme snowmobiling and accentuated the thrill by not taking any emergency precautions. I wondered about the ethics of this. Surely there's no justification for qualifying for the Darwin Awards. And a love of risk might be inherent, but it ought to be channeled into something constructive.
The resulting conversation kind of divided itself into male/female lines, though not entirely. I've been happy, since then, to talk to people who are into outdoor adventures and other risky activities but also believe in emergency plans, responsibility, and sanity.
Oh dear, I can't seem to link it. So, here it is, if you want to peruse it:
I said:
Wondering: what are the ethics of pursuing danger for danger's sake? If you're into extreme sports, I'd like to know how you justify that level of danger-for-pleasure. Why not take a medical team in to Afghanistan where the Taliban might ambush you? Or work in an ebola clinic? Or trap pythons in the Everglades? Or, as I tell that one son of mine, "If you're that desperate for a thrill, I'd rather you smuggled Bibles into North Korea!"
The discussion that followed:
What do you think?
4. Why is it that, when someone comes up with a new idea, Smuckers in general tend to loudly and immediately say all the reasons it won't work? "No breakthrough ideas will ever come out of this family," said a family member with a sigh. I'm told, to my chagrin, that I do this too, contrary to my holier-than-thou insistence that I am always supportive and encouraging.
How do we change this, I wonder. Because we need to.
As Ben says:
Quote of the Day:
"I finally figured out what ideas are like in our family. They're like clay pigeons."
[ouch]
1. Football.
I used to hate football with a perfect hatred. An "I count them mine enemies" sort of hatred. I actually played flag football myself back when P.E. was required and my
So I played it for six falls without understanding what a "down" was or what we were doing.
Did I mention my intense hatred for this game? I also failed a written test on the subject, a black mark on an otherwise stellar high school career.
Then I married a guy who liked sports of every kind. And later I had children who did also, and who loved the University of Oregon Ducks.
In the gentle simmering soup of a loving family, I learned about football. I know about downs and extra points and touchdowns and fumbles. There's a lot I don't know, but I can listen to a game with the kids and enjoy it and understand enough to follow the general plot.
Love and kindness make all the difference, people.
And now there's Marcus Mariota, the Ducks' quarterback. In a world of college sports where there's way too much arrogance, entitlement, covering up of alleged crimes, and shady deals, Marcus stands out as humble, self-effacing, and consistently of upstanding character. And of excellence.
So yes, that miserable little Amish girl, shuffling around on that high school football field hoping no one would expect anything out of her, she'll be following the national championship game on Monday.
I don't know enough about the other team to make any sort of prediction about the outcome.
But I do know I wish that, since they go to the same university, that Emily could, you know, kind of end up in a class or group with Marcus Mariota.
Just as a mom, I kind of wish that. As do probably 5000 other moms out there.
2. Children coming and going.
There's no way I want all of my six to live at home until they're 45. There comes a time when it isn't healthy. And once they're all out of the house I'll finally get to putter around making quilts all day.
Except. . . I kind of want them to stay home forever.
Matt and Amy were at home, and then they left. I think, weepily, "I know they're happy and fulfilled, but I just LIKE having them home."
To quote from Pride and Prejudice:
"'The loss of her daughter made Mrs. Bennet very dull for several days. '`I often think,' said she, `that there is nothing so bad as parting with one's friends. One seems so forlorn without them.'''
3.Danger. I linked an article on Facebook about a guy from Idaho who was into extreme snowmobiling and accentuated the thrill by not taking any emergency precautions. I wondered about the ethics of this. Surely there's no justification for qualifying for the Darwin Awards. And a love of risk might be inherent, but it ought to be channeled into something constructive.
The resulting conversation kind of divided itself into male/female lines, though not entirely. I've been happy, since then, to talk to people who are into outdoor adventures and other risky activities but also believe in emergency plans, responsibility, and sanity.
Oh dear, I can't seem to link it. So, here it is, if you want to peruse it:
I said:
Wondering: what are the ethics of pursuing danger for danger's sake? If you're into extreme sports, I'd like to know how you justify that level of danger-for-pleasure. Why not take a medical team in to Afghanistan where the Taliban might ambush you? Or work in an ebola clinic? Or trap pythons in the Everglades? Or, as I tell that one son of mine, "If you're that desperate for a thrill, I'd rather you smuggled Bibles into North Korea!"
The discussion that followed:
4. Why is it that, when someone comes up with a new idea, Smuckers in general tend to loudly and immediately say all the reasons it won't work? "No breakthrough ideas will ever come out of this family," said a family member with a sigh. I'm told, to my chagrin, that I do this too, contrary to my holier-than-thou insistence that I am always supportive and encouraging.
How do we change this, I wonder. Because we need to.
As Ben says:
Quote of the Day:
"I finally figured out what ideas are like in our family. They're like clay pigeons."
[ouch]
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