Life at DrTom's: Mostly Humorous Anecdotes by a Mostly Retired Cornell Professor. Thomas A. Gavin
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2. I wore Crocs so that if I ever cut my foot badly with the saw, I could remove my footwear quickly. Plus, with all the holes in the Crocs, blood would drain from my shoes rapidly. This makes Crocs much easier to clean than leather boots after a chain saw accident.
3. I never wore ear protection, because I wanted to hear my phone if it rang. Management often calls me on that phone when I am in the woods to tell me dinner is ready. If I missed meals, I might become light-headed, and this is dangerous when using a chain saw.
4. I never smoked cigars while cutting. I only lit up between cutting sessions, while I was refilling the saw with gasoline.
5. I never used the safety chain brake when carrying the saw with one hand, because I didn't want to wear out that mechanism (repairs can be expensive).
6. I always take the landline phone from the house with me, because of its intercom feature. If my wife is ever off the phone with her sister in Ohio, I would be able to call her for help.
7. And finally, I always wear shorts or a bathing suit when cutting to avoid overheating (I hate sweat). I especially like to fell trees on windy days; the wind keeps me cool.
Man, I took that safety course and now I realize how wrong I was. One of the biggest dangers in cutting is "kickback", which is when the saw flips back toward the person holding the saw. This is the accident where you can lose an ear, or worse. The saw comes back in 1/10th of a second. I always had pretty good reflexes (you know, I am an ex-tennis player and all that), so I have been dodging that damn saw for years. But now I know that it is the upper tip of the saw that causes kickback when it hits the log. Plus, I also learned that the chain saw users' mantra is "Stay out of the kickback plane". Whenever possible, stand slightly to the left of the plane through which the saw would pass if it kicks back. See, that 10th grade geometry is coming in handy, finally, to save an ear or two. Remember what a plane is? Thank goodness we didn't have to do anything with a rhombus, or I would have stitches all over my body.
But the main lesson I learned was that you have to wear the proper clothing and protective gear. I went back to Jim's store for three days in a row after the course to buy stuff. Helmet with shield and ear protection. Check. Boots with steel toe, made from a material that protects against the moving chain. Check. Did you know that 22% of all chain saw accidents occur to the feet and ankles? Proper gloves that really grip the handle of the saw. Check. And my favorite--wrap-around chaps that protect your legs from cuts. Check. Did you know that 52% of all chain saw accidents occur to your upper leg? These chaps stop the saw dead if it hits your leg. Plus, they are blaze orange, so if a tree falls on you in the forest, the rescue squad can find your body more rapidly.
So now I feel better informed, better protected, and I am more productive in the woods. I also learned a few tricks on cutting and moving wood that should save me time and energy (I hate sweat). The more free time I have, the more I can write books. The more books I write, the more time you waste reading them. I guess in the grand scheme of things, my increased productivity in cutting wood is a global zero-sum game.
The working conditions around here stink
I don't like to complain about my new life at home, which involves working outside on 12 acres of forest and gardens, trading stocks from my Command Center in my new office, doing some house repairs or painting, feeding the dog, watering house plants, paying bills, etc. But though the work is not all that bad, the conditions under which I have to operate are sometimes oppressive.
Here are some examples:
1. waiting for the dog to finish his nap on our bed before I can take one
2. shielding myself from the sun at the exact hour I prefer to have Happy Hour in the Butterfly Bush garden (too much squinting)
3. having to go about 100 yards to get the mail on a noisy riding lawn mower (ever hear of a muffler), and they only deliver the mail six days a week
4. dealing with the noise from the 8-9 cars that drive past our house each day
5. trying to keep the humidity in my cigar humidor between 65-70% RH
6. needing to untwirl my hammock before I can use it, which the wind keeps spinning round and round
I have spoken to Management about these annoyances on several occasions, but she does nothing. All she can suggest is that we move Happy Hour later to avoid the sun, but if we do that, it coincides with the rush hour when 30% of our daily traffic goes by the house. That is simply unacceptable.
So I continue to do my chores, trying not to complain. If I act too dissatisfied, Management will stop bribing me with her home-made coconut cupcakes to keep my mouth shut. And besides, the new management is such an improvement over the last. Sometimes I feel like such a slut.
I promise to be more macho
It seems that the majority of my readership is female. That suggests one of several explanations: 1) men don't know how to read, 2) men are busy watching NFL football, and don't have the desire to read, 3) men are more technologically challenged than they will admit, and simply don't know how to download an eBook, or 4) my topics are not manly enough for the average guy. I will assume that #4 is closest to the truth. And I understand guys. Although I have written about cutting firewood with the macho chain saw, which is potentially dangerous and makes loud noises, I have also described how I canned pears, wore Sean John underwear, and been happily married to the same woman for 42 years (all, later in this book).
In my defense, I have mentioned many times how I like to drink single-malt scotch and smoke cigars. That is getting pretty male-like, although my wife does exactly the same thing. When I am in the woods with my liquor and smokes, I fart frequently and cuss for no reason whatsoever. Sometimes I kick a squirrel that attempts to cross my path, and I was once seen spitting on the sidewalk when a meter maid passed by. I will urinate almost anywhere. I help women cross the street, but only if they are wearing a really short dress. I might even make a lewd and lascivious comment (sorry guys, that means a filthy remark) as she continues to walk down the street, and I will definitely check her out from head to toe in a way I learned in Latin America. I almost never watch Desperate Housewives.
But I need to cover topics that appeal more to men. I need to talk about hunting and fishing, and playing poker with the guys, and drinking at Punk's Place until it closes, and driving above the speed limit. Better yet, I will take up extreme sports and write about them. I will ski down the Matterhorn......on one ski...........blindfolded. I will go skin diving in the ocean as soon as a great white shark is reported in that exact location........naked...........with a dead bloody rabbit tied to my leg.........at night...........with no first aid kit. I will camp out in a small tent..........on the beach in Indonesia.............at the height of tsunami season. I will jump into the lion enclosure at the Syracuse zoo............lie down on the ground..............and pretend I am a wounded antelope.
I fully intend to complete all these activities within the next month. So stay tuned guys. Have your wife or girl friend find my next book for you, then show up at the Kindle with a beer wearing a wife-beater T-shirt, unshaven, smelling of chicken wings and cold pizza, and prepare to live vicariously through DrTom's exploits. I promise not to disappoint you.
Chapter 2: Little Distractions and Lively Entertainment
(Life doesn’t get much better than this)
The night I spent with Johnnie Walker in Korea
When I arrived in Taegu, Korea in 1970, I was assigned liaison duty. I was stationed with the 502nd Military Intelligence (MI) Battalion, and I was given two ROK (Republic of Korea) intelligence offices located in separate locations in the city with which to communicate. So, a couple of times per week I took one of our black jeeps, and Pusan, my interpreter, and I visited the military officers at these Korean units.