Many greetings, dear readers.
I’ll tell you a tale from this summer, a milestone tale indeed. A tale of great loss and great rewards. Good fun and solemn, sour twists.
The setting, of course: A rainy lake in the vast valleys on the northern expanse of the Alaska Range, east of the Matanuska glacier field. My good friend was to bed wed, and as you know with such things, that called for many celebratory measures! As these things go, naturally, watersports were in high order.
Water Skiing is a sport I have developed little to no skill at, so this was a perfect opportunity to try my hand. Of course, my good colleague went first, and we strapped him together and gave him a good send-off from the dock to be towed by one of the jetskis. I was manning another jetski in order to provide both moral support and lend a hand in the event of a false launch. My dear colleague made it a great distance for his first time, and we were all impressed. About a football field’s length across the water, he had lost his balance and dropped the tow line.
Not remembering that my cellphone was tucked into the breastplate of my flotation device, I dropped my phone, accidentally, straight into the middle of the deepest part of the lake while capsizing one or two times as my colleague and I struggled to properly board my watercraft. We eventually boarded and strapped him in yet again. He did well his second run, a good sport. I was next in line. With a few pointers from the gentlemen present and the demonstration beforehand, I did rather well, I do say. It was quite the time!
Upon returning to shore, I searched ’round for my cellphone, to no avail.
Much thinking, backtracking, calling, and ponderance later, I solemnly concluded that it was indeed at the bottom of the lake.
I was distraught, and separated myself from the group to take a short nap in the driver’s seat of my vehicle.
Refreshed, I went to the edge of the water and looked out at the still, cold plane. Helplessness, was the word. Even if it was miraculously recovered, it would be of no use for it was assuredly fried. That deep feeling in the pit of your skull when you’re forced to watch a train wreck, that was all wiped away when I had such a curious thought, “why would I want it back… what had been lost?” Across my face came a smile, and a boastful laugh, “I’ve finally gained freedom from the tangle, I should have thrown the demented thing in the lake myself, and a long time ago!”
“I’ve finally gained freedom from the tangle, I should have thrown the demented thing in the lake myself, and a long time ago!”
young man, phoneless circa 2020
Photos lost, gone forever. Videos, texts, heartbreaks and heart throbs, strings tied to the higher mind–severed in an instant. Evaporated, alleviating an odd pressure. The recoiling strands were thankful to have rest once more, eager to strengthen the grasp of what was most pertinent to my immediate life and successes. It’s almost as though my consciousness was waiting for something this tumultuous to occur, for I was being too stubborn, allowing for past transgressions to roil within the forefront of my mind.
I didn’t get another phone for about 10 days even though it was necessary for work. Those 10 days were the quietest of the summer, where I had no one to answer to and could truly be off the reservation, in my own ways.
Now, dear reader, I’m not suggesting you toss your phone into the nearest body of water, or leave it on train tracks, or give it to copper enthusiasts… that’s a you thing, not a me thing. All I’m wishing to impart upon you is: helpless situations have a silver lining, and sometimes hidden blessings.
P.S. If you cannot afford to be a wildman like me, save things offline you cannot part with.
