As I grew up and experienced the sometimes wonderful, and at other times completely baffling world of childhood, I quickly realized that I was not as physically skilled as the other kids. This is an area that I have already extensively covered in previous writings, so I will not re-visit the subject. However, one of the ways in which I DID resemble all the other children was in my love for television. I grew up spending three solid hours most Saturday mornings sitting in front of the tube in my pajamas, eating cold cereal, and watching Bugs Bunny elude Elmer Fudd, Scooby Doo solve mysteries as he cruised around in the Mystery Van, and Johnny Quest go on all sorts of adventures. Those were the days that were ruled by t.v. networks, and our available choices were limited to five channels. One of those was a public broadcasting station, which catered mostly to adults, so in my world there really were only four channels. That is until the day that I discovered that the public station showed Monty Python every Saturday night at 11 p.m. Then my world expanded and it was back to having FIVE viable channels.
Really though, the other four networks showed most of everything that my young mind could want. From The Wonderful World Of Disney, and Gilligan's Island, to The Six Million Dollar Man, and Mission Impossible. I loved Mission Impossible, and when I wasn't pretending to be Steve Austin, a man barely alive who was rebuilt and could now pull a cement-encrusted metal pole out of the ground and throw it like a paper javelin, I was accepting the newest mission from my superiors because my team and I were the only ones who could get the job done. I was always on the lookout for the next tape recorder, the one that would self destruct after a few seconds, or any other method that my boss would choose to relay my instructions. These things only ever existed in my make-believe world, and I never did receive the outside summons to embark on any clandestine missions, impossible or not.
I never received any external summons, but thirteen years ago at the age of thirty eight, I did accept delivery of an internal call to a version of Mission Impossible, named Ataxia Impossible. Actually, I didn't so much as accept the delivery as I had it thrust upon me, and over these last few years it has been like watching a movie. A movie where the main character will be pardoned and not sent back to prison if he will just successfully perform a task that seemingly only he can perform. You know the kind of story that I'm referring to. There is always lot's of action, and usually at least once or twice things will really look bleak for the main character, but in the end everything comes together in a neat little package and the hero gets his pardon and lives happily ever after. I accept the missions, but I never get the pardon.
An aspect of the Mission Impossible show that kept me enthralled as a kid were all the gadgets that the team got to use. My favorite would have to be the rubber masks that they made. When they put these disguises on, they transformed themselves into another person, and literally could, and would, fool anybody. Unfortunately, the missions I am called on to engage in do not require me to do, or perform, the same kind of visual trickery, but to just look like my boring self. I am a master at gaining weight, but sadly, this is not a skill that will help me complete a tough assignment. Tough ones, like the weekly cutting of my nails, shaping my beard with an electric trimmer and unstable hands, or brushing my teeth with a tool that could either be used to clean my teeth or continually prod and jab my gums are unfortunately not currently useful to anyone else but me. It's too bad, and it makes me feel like having a snack.....maybe even three.
I am considered to always be on active duty, and as such, can be presented with a mission at any time of the day or night. Usually my day is made up of dozens of operations, ranging from big to small. Just one example of a task that I have been internally called on to do in the past, and probably will be again in the future, is to jump up and answer the door. The mission is presented to me in a way, that should I accept, may lead to a stubbed toe, a bruised shoulder or hip from walking into things, or a out-of-control dance followed by an epic fall. I could of course refuse to accept these missions that are presented to me throughout the day. But to do so would mean that I would absolutely do nothing. That's not an option. I just need to think about what I am doing, move slowly and with purpose, and modify how I do things while achieving the same results.
It's not Ataxia Impossible, it's Ataxia Possible, so never give up my friends. As always, I wish you all the best.
I never received any external summons, but thirteen years ago at the age of thirty eight, I did accept delivery of an internal call to a version of Mission Impossible, named Ataxia Impossible. Actually, I didn't so much as accept the delivery as I had it thrust upon me, and over these last few years it has been like watching a movie. A movie where the main character will be pardoned and not sent back to prison if he will just successfully perform a task that seemingly only he can perform. You know the kind of story that I'm referring to. There is always lot's of action, and usually at least once or twice things will really look bleak for the main character, but in the end everything comes together in a neat little package and the hero gets his pardon and lives happily ever after. I accept the missions, but I never get the pardon.
An aspect of the Mission Impossible show that kept me enthralled as a kid were all the gadgets that the team got to use. My favorite would have to be the rubber masks that they made. When they put these disguises on, they transformed themselves into another person, and literally could, and would, fool anybody. Unfortunately, the missions I am called on to engage in do not require me to do, or perform, the same kind of visual trickery, but to just look like my boring self. I am a master at gaining weight, but sadly, this is not a skill that will help me complete a tough assignment. Tough ones, like the weekly cutting of my nails, shaping my beard with an electric trimmer and unstable hands, or brushing my teeth with a tool that could either be used to clean my teeth or continually prod and jab my gums are unfortunately not currently useful to anyone else but me. It's too bad, and it makes me feel like having a snack.....maybe even three.
I am considered to always be on active duty, and as such, can be presented with a mission at any time of the day or night. Usually my day is made up of dozens of operations, ranging from big to small. Just one example of a task that I have been internally called on to do in the past, and probably will be again in the future, is to jump up and answer the door. The mission is presented to me in a way, that should I accept, may lead to a stubbed toe, a bruised shoulder or hip from walking into things, or a out-of-control dance followed by an epic fall. I could of course refuse to accept these missions that are presented to me throughout the day. But to do so would mean that I would absolutely do nothing. That's not an option. I just need to think about what I am doing, move slowly and with purpose, and modify how I do things while achieving the same results.
It's not Ataxia Impossible, it's Ataxia Possible, so never give up my friends. As always, I wish you all the best.
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