(humorous, true story) "Can you hear me now"

So I have a particular friend here in the wilds of Alaska.
If you had ever been to Fairbanks and walked through
Sportsman's Warehouse you might well of had seen him.
Although I highly doubt you would have been able to pick him
out of the crowd of all the other long haired, long bearded,
Carhartt wearing Grizzly-Adamish typical Alaskans.
Like most, he lives semi-off the grid and spends a great deal of his time outdoors and is an avid, very experienced, hunter and fisherman.
One day while we were reliving our past experiences in the Arctic, he relayed the following story. Summer had drawn to a close and the days were growing shorter by the minute. The leaves had fallen and the first signs of frost were appearing, casting gray shadows across the hills. The Salmon had spawned and hunting season was at hand.
Funny thing about the "Interior" and the people that she draws to it. They have preconceived idea's, and when they get here the first thing, and most understandably, they want to do is experience the outdoors and NOT from the safety of the car.
Thankfully we have many, many "SourDough's" who just cant wait to take a greenhorn out just to see the look of wonderment and at times shear fright upon their mosquito lumped faces, my friend is one of these.
As I said, hunting season was upon them and "Mr. Adam's" had befriended a young man at work who begged for someone to take him Moose hunting, to which my grizzly friend quickly agreed.
Great preparation goes into a successful moose hunt, to which I will leave the reader to imagine. However for the stories sake I will mention some "rules" that apply. Never, ever go in on your four wheeler farther then you can walk out. Always bring enough supplies to last at least three days and if at all possible have communication with the outside world. But most of all be prepared for the unexpected because what you think could never happen, will.
So here we are, our friends begin their journey where the road ends and the vast expanse of tundra begins.
They had already gone in and up seven or eight miles and were in the perfect place which had produced moose after moose year after year.
As they sat and glassed the valley below them they could see the tree line go for miles in each direction, as I said, perfect.
After about four hours of not moving and the greenhorn wondering just what he had gotten himself into, my friend sprung into action, he had heard something.
He followed the sound with his rifle and began glassing the tree line right down below them.
He whispered to the newbie "did you hear that", "i'm not sure" he stuttered back through the pounding of his heart.
Again another noise only louder and more distinguishable, not a moose, but a voice. A very distant human voice.
the newbie quickly and quietly acknowledged that he had definitely heard someone at that point yelling hello.
My friend quickly put down his rifle and called out "hello out there" again the reply came "hello can you hear me", "Yes I can hear you", and with that reply came recognition "dad, is that you down there?!", "yes, Its me", fearing the worst he began to walk down the hill and cried out "are you alright" "yes" came the reply, "i'm fine, your the one who called me".
communication is good to have, as long as it has a key pad lock.

(Humorous, true story) “The inherent dangers of tanning”

During the last six years of my previous career, I worked in cancer treatment. I can not begin to tell you how many times I have listened to the physicians involved preach about the inherent dangers of tanning and its relationship to the life threatening cancer melanoma.
Now tanning salons will tell you the opposite and even go so far as to say that tanning has its own health benefits and is necessary if you do not regularly get enough sun.
I write this story as a warning and will only bring out the truth so as to protect the ignorant.
I have suffered a great deal in this life, major, traumatic, life changing things have taken place, but it is not those things that make life so miserable and sometimes even unbearable. It’s the little things, the broken shoelaces, the stubbed toes, the biting of ones tongue or cheek while enjoying a succulently char broiled steak. AAAARRRGGG!
One of those little things for me was an acne problem.
As if going through puberty was not bad enough, oh no, I have had to suffer with a life long flare up of acne on my back and chest. What’s the big deal? I will tell you. Try getting one of those buggers right in the middle of your back.
You don’t even notice them until you rub against something. After the pain has subsided you have to deal with the embarrassing questions from your wife, “Honey, what happened, you’re bleeding?”, “I just got shot trying to stop an armed gunman from taking the life savings of a little old defenseless lady.” Nope, nothing notable like that, just simply “I popped a zit” (stifled laughter) “oh baby, I’m sorry”
In any case when I turned 35 I said enough was enough.
I do laundry every Saturday with a good friend. At this laundry facility they have tanning beds. I laid aside my masculinity, dealt with the taunting and jeering of my friend and ignored the melanoma warnings from my co-workers. I had read some articles and made the decision to begin a tanning regiment, however I would be smart about it. Only ten minutes a week, what could possibly go wrong?
Halleluiah, I had found the cure! With in a week they were gone. This opened up a whole new world for me, no longer would I be embarrassed to go to the pool.
Then it happened, they all had warned me that tanning was dangerous, little did I know how right they were.
One Saturday, just like all the rest, I had just put the clothes into dry and headed to the back for my ten minutes of light therapy. Over the years I had it down to a fine art. The one minute warm-up while undressing, the head phones in and the IPod locked onto my favorite album, the fan on so the breeze blew coolly on my face, I climbed in and lowered the door, before I knew it, it was time to get out, I gently pushed the lid open,,,,,, open, OPEN!
You have got to be kidding me, no joke, I was stuck. Worse, stuck naked! I laughed a little out loud as I tried to remain calm. I pushed with my knees and arms at the same time, it didn’t budge, the panic began to set in but I quickly reminded myself that this is how people die and thought it through. AH, my cell phone, thank God. I squeezed my leg through the very small opening and stretched it out trying to grip my jacket with my toes, its just to far. Do I begin to scream for help? No frikin way! The only one I want to find my naked ars stuck in a tanning bed is my wife, and she no doubt would be laughing to hard to help me. Finally after twenty Closter phobic minutes I realized that the foot of the lid moved more then the head, the jam had to be within reach. Houdini would have been proud, I managed to contort my arms out of the top and found the jammed rail within minutes, “phew, I was free”. I quickly got dressed and began to examine the lid. I was able to replicate the flaw and wanted to warn the facility of this broken piece of equipment lest any other unsuspecting victim fall prey.
I went and got the manager, as we walked to the back, I explained that there was something wrong with the tanning bed. When we got there I asked her to try and open the lid. She lifted hard with no results, I encouraged her to try even harder, and she did. Then she stood back and shaking her head, looked at me and said, “wow good thing you wern't in there”, without hesitance I replied, “um, yes, good thing”. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

(humorous, true story) "Sowing & Reaping"

"Be not deceived; God is not mocked: for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap. "

Call it karma, sowing and reaping, or just plain divine vengeance, whatever you choose doesn't really matter, because when you decide to be mean to another person or living being you can bet that it's coming back.......Sometimes two fold!

Being raised a single child on a hobby-farm provided a lot of free time, in between the chores of course. As the saying goes "An idle mind is the devil's workshop."
I was perhaps seven years old when I discovered that an electric fence could do more then keep the would-be-stray animals in. It could also provide many hours of fun filled, heart thumping excitement.
One hot summer day while playing chicken with the timed electrical surges I discovered something very fascinating, while wearing shoes on very dry ground, I could actually grip the fence tightly with my fist and the timed surge would not shock me, "Oh, Cooooool" Experimentation, no matter what it is, always has a price. It didn't take long after my initial "oh, coooool" discovery to find it was not so cool to touch anything at all with my free hand.
After the initial shocking experience of grabbing my nearby bicycle I decided I needed an assistant to continue unlocking the secrets that physics might hold.
Now after reading the next few sentences I know what one might think, but please place yourself in the situation, I was young, inquisitive, and I just did not consider the ramifications of what I was about to do, besides, I loved my dog!
As I gripped the fence and hollered for trusting "Bear" to come over, I heard the little voice in my head begin to scream "DON"T DO IT", it was to late, in one quick flash from the tips of my fingers onto his black shiny nose, our loving, uncompromising relationship was over.
Now if I were to leave the story here, then no lesson would be learned, nothing gained, and the title would have no meaning at all, soooooooo....
Later that same day, being outside, being a boy raised on a farm, not seeing the same electric fence running through the bushes and most importantly having to pee really bad, I let it go. I had a full stream flowing fast and hard before I noticed what was happening, then the surge came, POW! As I pulled myself from off of the ground and tried to catch my breath, I could see him from the corner of my weeping eye just standing there off in the distance with an unmistakable grin all over his face, "Bear", yes dogs can grin, and even laugh.

(humorous, true story) "The Pool"

I have a friend. One could easily say one of my best friends.

When we choose to be true friends with someone, that friendship is generally unconditional.

We can overlook most of their faults, however often times not without some harassment!

This particular friend has OCD, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, and thankfully a sense of humor regarding it.

Obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD) as defined by Wikipedia is a psychiatric anxiety disorder most commonly characterized by a subject's obsessive, distressing, intrusive thoughts and related compulsions (tasks or "rituals") which attempt to neutralize the obsessions.

One of my friends particular “compulsions” was and is his fear of germs. His side effect was hand washing and fear of public facilities i.e. restrooms, public showers and so on, I truly do feel for his ailment. It prevents him from enjoying many things, and so being a friend, I was out to assist him in overcoming some of his fear.

I regularly attend a community center here in Alaska, it offers everything that a recreation center should, a weight room, sauna, and my favorites a swimming pool and Jacuzzi, all this for few dollars. It is always a pleasant atmosphere. The Staff keeps a very clean locker room and is always checking the pool and Jacuzzi to assure the optimum amount of chlorine.

I explained all of this to my friend, who was slightly receptive of the idea of going, but in the end would always sadly decline. As much as he wanted to go, he just could not get past the debilitating effects of the OCD.

I worked on him day after day. I would tell him how pleasant it was to relax in the cool clean waters. How therapeutic the Jacuzzi was after a long hard day at work. How nice it was to meet up with friends and just talk and fellowship with one another. Finally, after nine months of wearing him down, he conceded! We were on our way!

We arrived at the center at 6:30pm just in time for “open swim”; we purchased our “tokens” and entered the locker room. As we removed our shoes he began to tremble, slightly at first, however by the time the clothes were shed and swimsuits adorned, he was pale, the shaking had increased to a steady eight on the “Richter Scale”. I reassured him, and he was so brave and determined to finally face his fear. I must at this point admit that as I followed him into the showers I was both amused and amazed at the extreme skill and delicacy he demonstrated as he walked on his heels the whole entire way, still shaking, and even more pale.

We made it through the showers and out to the pool, thankfully it was not that crowded, otherwise I would have had to explain that this was my “special friend” because at that point he was so distraut I thought we might even have to give up and leave.

We deposited our tokens into the cup and proceeded to the deep end. I went in first. As he turned to use the latter I could see his face, it was as looking into the eyes of one facing the gallows, he eased in. For the first 2 minutes we did not exchange any words, then to my surprise he turned to face me with the biggest grin, he had won! He and I both exhaled with great relief.

He began to explain how that he had not been to a public pool since he was very small, how that this was not as bad as he thought it might be and how he should have done this years ago. This conversation was taking place as he was treading water looking around and was followed up with a very inquisitive question, “hey Dan, what’s that rope for?” He was referring to the rope separating the children in the shallow end and the adults in the deep end. I quickly answered…………”peeing and non peeing!”

(humorous, true story) "The Cashew"

Working the majority of my life in health care has afforded me many unique, odd and very strange encounters.
One such encounter, as I recall, happened late one night in a particular nursing home with which I was not real familiar with. Now I should state here that I worked at the time, for an agency that had me traveling all over the city working at many different facilities. The money was great, however the main disadvantage was that you never got to know the patients.
I was sitting at the nursing station when the call light came on. As walked down the hall, a co-worker said to me, "that's Mrs. So-n-so, she probably just needs to use the bedside commode".
As I entered the private room and turned on the light, I could see the commode off to the side of the night stand which held held a phone, a vase of flowers, a glass of water containing a soaking pair of dentures and another large container that had the words "Salted Cashews" blazoned on the side.
I moved the commode in front of the night stand towards the top of the bed and I lowered the safety rails. I sat her up on the edge of the bed and applied the "gate belt" (a device that fits around the patients waist to assist in transferring). In one quick, smooth move I had transferred her from the bed and onto the commode. It should be noted here that up until this point the patient had not said a word, what needed to be done had only been (correctly) implied.
As I stood there off to the side trying to give her as much dignity as possible, I saw something catch her eye. There, on her bed was a large, fully intact cashew, right where her backside had been. With the speed of a young child, she had snatched it up and it was now heading straight for her mouth. Thankfully I was a bit quicker and I had managed to stop the cross contamination from taking place. She let out a very loud, indistinguishable verbal lashing as I tried to pry the unsavory nut from her hand while trying to calmly explain that I would be happy to get her another one from the can. The grip, fight and tenacity with which she still tried ingest the filthy nut was nothing less then astounding. However I was young and male, I had the advantage, her fingers slowly gave in, I had successfully removed what I now realized was NOT a cashew at all, it was the poor woman's hearing aid, which she was trying NOT to place in her mouth, but in her ear. I sheepishly returned it to her hand and apologized as she placed it in her ear.
Not all things are as they appear...

(humorous, true story) "Attack of the St. Bernard"

To the ears of a four year old boy, the sound of a barking dog in a far off Field was quite captivating, however what was to follow would be forever etched in my mind as the single most frightening experience of my childhood (other then the "chicken incident").
As I stared across the Field where I stood, past the barb wire fence and onto the horizon before me, I could just make out the small bounding dot moving quickly in my direction.
I watched in amazement as with each leap the beast grew larger larger and the thunderous barking got louder. That's when the first thought hit my young mind that this monstrosity had purpose, it was not out for a casual run, it was out for me!
I glanced around for safety, could I make it to the house?! Yes, of course I could! As I answered my own question and decided to make a run for it, I turned quickly to assess the situation further and listen as my mind vomited out another fleeting thought, surely the barbwire fence would stop this thing, I knew all to well about the stopping power of barbed wire. Once again my question was answered as fast as it was asked, however this time not by me. The very large St. Bernard, 150lb according to my mom, had hit the fence, everything was in slow motion now. I could see its bulging muscles ripple as it tore through, leaving clumps of hair hanging like forgotten Christmas ornaments in a holiday cabin. I turned to run. I made it every bit of three whole steps before I heard the train on my heals and coming fast. I turned to face my death. The dog/horse, without breaking stride, rose to its hind legs and squarely planted its paws across my chest, my head slammed to the ground, I saw it jaws heading towards my face, I closed my eyes and tried to scream, as I opened my mouth to draw a breath, I couldn't. Something was blocking my air other then the weight of the beast, something was in my mouth and down my throat, I opened my eyes in terror, it's tongue! I drew a breath as I turned my head in disgust and dismay, another slobbery lick was coming, I managed to scream for my mom and dad, but that also only made it part way out. I was drowning in drool, being "waterboarded" by a dog. I could hear familiar voices screaming loudly as the tongue lashing continued. Three minutes of hell and three gallons of drool later, they had it off of me, I was gagging and soaked. There was not a dry part of my upper body, it was dripping off my nose.
needless to say, to this day I do not let dogs lick any part of my body, except my toes of course, aaahhh!