I Am a Lumberjack

Is 53 too old to begin thinking about what you want to be in life?

I want to grow up to be a ________________.

Doesn’t sound like a very mature statement for a man of my age to be making, does it?

Yesterday, I took a trip with some old friends to the Oregon coast, about 1.5 hours from Portland.

I’ve alluded to the fact of my possible near future relocation to Portland…if you’ve been paying attention.

The problem is deciding what I would do there?

So, I thought about maybe giving lumberjack-ing a try?

I’ve heard the pay’s good. The breakfasts are hearty. The work exhilarating. You’re in nature all the time…albeit with the purpose of tearing it down.

And wouldn’t it be super cool to answer the question of “what do you do” with…

“Well, to be honest, I am a lumberjack.”

Of course, I’m kidding.

I probably wouldn’t last very long in the lumberjack business.

Perhaps not even as long as I lasted in the lawyering business.

So, that leaves me with the lingering question…what in the Sam Hill am I going to do in Portland?

But, then again, viciously pondering that question to the point of delirium, perhaps is not the best use of my brain cells.

What’ll I do?

I’ll do something, that’s what!

I mean, there’s a thousand ways to skin a cat, or make a buck…right?

And if they pass Measure 91, my ties to Latin America may become even more lucrative!

Portlanders are a hearty lot, like the pioneers who saw those tall timbers and decided to bring them down and make something with them.

They aren’t content with the regular beers that the rest of the world drinks…no sir, they want to brew their own brands, with names like Poop Deck Porter, or Bitter Bitch Pale Ale.

They’re really fairly nuts, and that convenient fact dovetails nicely with my plans for financial security…if there even is such a thing.

So, you know what, I think I’ll stop the incessant worry about what I’m going to do and just do…

something.

“Hi, how are you?”

“Fine and you?”

“So, what do you do?”

“I am a lumberjack.”

“REALLY, my cousin Pauly, he’s a lumberjack too…”

and just like that, another meaningless conversation is borne.

From now on, I’m going to be answering that question with a simple four letter word…

L – I – F – E.

How about you?