When I Grow Up to Be a Man

When I was a kid I wanted to be a major league baseball player and thought with some hard work that some day I really would be. But after studying my lineage I realized not too many Japanese grow to be major league size. That and I never did learn how to hit a curve ball brought reality crashing upon my head.

The next thing I wanted to be was a talk show host. After watching Johnny Carson night after night I thought it would be wonderful to chat with celebrities always looking for a wisecrack, the witty joke to get adoring applause. Johnny was smart and suave and I thought I could be smart and suave. Some day.

When I was twelve my career path took another turn. I became interested in meteorology. I thought it was great how they could use their many charts and gadgets to actually predict the future. I bought maps and special erasable pens and followed the nation's weather patterns. I practiced my witty repartee in case I ever came across an anchorman with whom I had to trade banter.

All this came to mind this past week when I had a discussion with a technical writer who asked me how I got into what I am doing. Actually I met this woman last spring while attending a Denmark Township town meeting in which the recount which I officiated was discussed with a little tension among the town folk. This woman approached me after the meeting and asked, "What do you do the rest of the year?" This is a common question put to every election official from the public that sees elections as a one or two night a year event. This woman clarified her statements last week telling me her daughter was in college and is trying to make her career choice. "How did you get into this line of work and did you know you'd end up here?" she asked.

I didn't want to tell her that no, I always wanted to be a baseball player or a talk show host but events just sort of fell upon themselves and I have ended up where I am now. Not that there is anything wrong with that. But after playing my best personal softball game of the season where I finally smacked a few hits and had a picture perfect slide to avoid being thrown out at home even though the ball arrived before I did (I was so low to the ground the catcher never had a chance) those old dreams sometimes do cause a thought of "what if?"

The same thoughts danced around my head that night. If there is one thing worse than being awoken in the middle of the night by the Civil Defense sirens it's being awoken in the middle of the night by the Civil Defense sirens that blare on and on for over a half hour. I thought the world was coming to an end and I was too tired to even care. I did get out of bed to turn on the news and heard what is becoming the typical doomsday dour expression from all the TV weather people. I surveyed the situation (straight line winds) and went back to bed feeling that my bed wasn't underneath any bone crushing trees.

A couple of nights later the storms returned and just a little before midnight the power went out and still has yet to be restored. While inconvenient, after surveying the debris outside it falls under the old cliche` it could have been worse. I did discover that the lack of power manifests itself in subtle ways. Without my morning coffee I was a bit loopy and ended up uttering one of those first in a lifetime sentences, "Well, the frost needed defridging anyways," I said to the disinterested Mr. Max. He after all still had his food and water and his place for his morning sit down and he certainly doesn't miss the stereo or TV so all was fine and dandy with him.