I have a friend I’ll call “John” (that’s because his name really IS John). John is one of my best friends and lives life to the fullest. People are drawn to him…he’s a great guy who literally lives “a life of adventure”. There’s nothing that John is afraid to do. He’s a THRILL SEEKER.
Unfortunately, at times, John is also a bit, well, CLUMSY.Yes, that is not a very good combination. You might liken this to a surgeon who has a bad case of “the shakes”, or perhaps a dynamite expert who can’t help but play with matches. Fortunately, however, John has managed to “test the boundaries” of his limits without excessively crossing the line. He sure comes close, though!
Generally, John knows himself well enough to have the “mental red flag” go up in his mind when he approaches the “danger zone”. Unfortunately, John appears to be color blind…at least to the color RED.
When John’s car had a flat tire while parked in the garage, he managed to jack up the wheel, but that was about the extent of his abilities. He didn’t use anything to BLOCK the tires, so as it sat with the end of the car precariously suspended in the air, the car began to teeter on the verge of falling on…yes, JOHN. Meanwhile, as John flirted with his own death, he had a difficult time getting the lug nuts to break free.
What would YOU do as the car teetered and you furiously tried to break the lug nuts free? I bet it would NOT involve grabbing a (very large) log from the firewood pile and begin BEATING on the lug wrench. Eventually, John realized that the lug nuts were, in their “lug nut way”, laughing at him, so he called for help:
“Hello, Triple A? I need help with fixing a flat. The log isn’t working.”
“Did you say the LOG isn’t working??”
“Yeah, the log isn’t turning the little nut thingies holding the wheel on.”
“Uh, okay. You mean the lug nuts aren’t coming loose?”
“Um, the LOG…the LOG isn’t working. I can’t get the wheel off.”
“Ok sir, what is your name?”
“John. You know, JOHN…the guy who lives in Fayetteville, Georgia. I think I’ve spoken with you several times”
“OHH! Hello John! I guess you were released from the hospital after the LAST flat, huh?”
“Yeah. That was a STEEP hill. So, can you help me?”
“Yes, and the first step is….STEP AWAY FROM YOUR CAR! We’ll be there soon!”
See, most people in our local area…no, make that the STATE, know about John and his travails. He was the pastor of a very large church until he was called to head up that denomination’s mission organization. He was heard on the radio and was very honest about his…shortcomings…with regards to tools, repairs and the like.
I always thought he should be wearing a sign, or perhaps a T-Shirt that said “It’s ME, JOHN!” That way, people could be alerted to the fact that yes, they SHOULD stop and help him.
“John, I’m here to help. I see you have a screwdriver in your hand. Gently put the screwdriver down, and step away. Slooowwwwly!”
John once decided to fertilize his yard. He figured that certainly HE could do what some ol’ “yard guy” would charge him to do. After all, it’s JUST fertilizer! What harm could he do with FERTILIZER?! So John very methodically filled the “whirleybird” fertilizer thing and began whirring away in his front yard. He thought that walking in a spiral motion would ensure even coverage of the fertilizer on his (very nice and green) lawn. Unbeknownst to him, the “whirleybird thing” was literally POURING a single stream of fertilizer STRAIGHT DOWN as he whirred away. See, John didn’t realize that “whirleybird thing” was adjustable. John completed the task and proudly put his fertilizer supplies away.
In just a matter of weeks, John’s yard displayed a beautiful brown spiral, burned into the (PREVIOUSLY very nice and green) grass.
He hadn’t noticed, but one day he was tipped off by the sounds of the news choppers flying overhead, covering the discovery of “crop circles” in Fayetteville, Georgia.
John’s wife: “What did you do??!!”
John: “Uh, fertilized the grass”.
John’s wife: “Why are there news crews wanting to interview us?”
John: “I guess because I made a pretty picture in the lawn. Maybe they want me to do THEIR lawns…”
John’s wife: “I doubt it.”
Very soon John called the “yard guys” and gave them the task of salvaging his grass. Meanwhile, he focused on other things. There was a florescent light bulb that had burned out in his basement ceiling light fixture.
Unfortunately, John RUINED said light fixture trying to remove the bulb. One day I visited John and he took me downstairs to “get my advice” on this “crazy” light fixture that doesn’t allow you to change it’s bulbs.
John: “Come look at this light downstairs. What a stupid design! You can’t even change the bulbs in it!“
Dave: “Huh? That doesn’t make sense!”
As I surveyed the damage, I couldn’t believe my eyes. The florescent fixture was much like you’d find in any kitchen in America. The oak frame and lens assembly was attached to the fixture itself via a screw on each end. John didn’t know this, however, and managed to crack the lens to bits as he reached inside and turned the florescent bulb which dropped from it’s socket and laid inside the broken, but still intact, lens.
John: “Look! I got the bulb out! But it’s too long to take out! What a lame design!”
Dave: (blank stare).
John: “I’d take this thing back if I had the time. So where should I get a new fixture, and preferably one where you can actually CHANGE THE BULB?!”
Dave: (blank stare).
John: (blank stare back).
After a period of silence, I realized that my good friend John WAS NOT KIDDING. I calmly brought two chairs over and set them under the light fixture.
Dave: “Okay, um, get up here and look at this.” (pointing to the screw in the oak frame)
John: “Um, ooookay. What is that for?
Dave: “That HOLDS THE FRAME AND LENS TO THE FIXTURE, so…..YOU CAN CHANGE THE BULB. There’s one on both ends.”
John: (Blank stare).
Dave: (Blank stare back).
John got off the chair and put it away.
John: “Hey, let me show you some pictures of the latest SHARK DIVE I just did!”
Yes, that’s right. I said SHARK DIVE. John loves to dive and hunt (yes, with GUNS and BOWS AND (very sharp) ARROWS!) How does a guy like that get away with not severely killing himself?! He’s come close, but never so close we thought he was a goner.
John once took his rifles out on some property to “sight the scopes”. He hiked in from the road and very carefully set his rifles up and began the process of sighting them in. As he lined up for a shot and squeezed the trigger, the recoil of the gun caused the scope to jump back…John began to see red. No, he wasn’t MAD. He was….bloody. The butt of the rifle wasn’t securely against his shoulder, allowing the scope to jump back into his “eye region” (a little medical terminology for you.) Yep, he got a huge GASH in his eye. Being a pastoral version of “Rambo”, John calmly took his shirt off, wrapped it around his head, threw his guns on his shoulder and began the hike back to the car. By the time he got to the road, he looked like Rambo after he’d been beaten up: bloody bandana, plenty of weapons and all. He preached the next two Sundays with a shiner the size of Montana. Somehow he managed to work the story into his sermon and deliver an impactful message. There he was, our “Headwound Harry”, comparing his wound to that of Goliath’s when David slew him with a little stone. (I must admit, the “visual” did indeed help me form a mental picture of that battle like I had never had before.) The changing of his bandage, however, SHOULD have been done AFTER the sermon…but apparently the doctors are VERY specific about keeping the wound dressed at specific times of the day. (Rumor has it that John visited his buddy who I will call “Mike” (since that’s his name) to have his “eye region” sutured up. What’s so unusual about that? Mike is a VETERINARIAN. This is not surprising, as John is a hardened ex-football player and no doubt went without any form of pain killer. Knowing Mike, he probably thoroughly checked John’s teeth and ears, and checked for worms. He is, after all, a great veterinarian. I wonder how the insurance company handled THAT claim??)
But never one to give up, John continues in his adventurous ways. He has electrocuted himself (hanging Christmas lights), fallen off of a very tall ladder (hanging Christmas lights), and electrocuted his own wife (hanging Christmas lights).
So to John, I tip my hat. Never have I known anyone who ROUTINELY seems to tempt fate yet comes away from it in pretty decent shape. Guns, knives, bows and arrows, no problem (almost).
But electrical cords, screwdrivers, hammers, saws and yes, even LOGS…that’s another story.
So if you’re out there and you see a guy alongside of the road, bloodied and bruised, dressed in a “It’s ME, John!” shirt, you have two choices: RUN (and run fast!), or tempt your own fate and see if he could use a hand. Just make sure you tell him to “step away from the tools!”
