By Danny Maybin
A dear friend of mine once said, “The only thing worse than someone who can’t sing, is someone who don’t know they can’t sing”. I think it was a gentle nudge in my direction, but after much consideration and self-examination, I think it was a wise observation. I am very aware my wife and kids applaud his insight in this matter. After many polite yet obviously unappreciative audiences and one incident of what I would label as an intervention, I am completely confident singing is not one of my gifts. Upon hearing myself recorded in a studio, the matter was settled once and for all. What sounded great in the earphones, upon replay, more closely resembled a dying cat in a hailstorm. The only wisdom I did glean from this shattering revelation is that my ears are perfectly fine.
Then there are the automotive and mechanical abilities. As someone who has always felt confident and self reliant in this area, I was always puzzled when my wife would roll her eyes when I declared that I was going to fix something on the car. Upon my query, she produced receipts for auto repairs from the local mechanic. As I studied the costs, I felt fully vindicated in my abilities to repair the car and save money! The parts costs were about even, and I had saved money on the labor portion of the bill. My wife then brought to the forefront my cost in bad temperament, skinned knuckles, foul language and a general degradation in my overall spiritual commitment to life and my community. “A broken sparkplug can send you to a really dark place,” she said.
Considering my vocational choices, It is becoming more and more clear to me that, as we humans have many gifts and talents, I find little correlation between what we naturally do best, and what we want to do. Just like the tenor singer who sings flat yet holds the last note longer the he should, or the guy who spends four hours doing what a gifted mechanic could do in thirty minutes, we seem to think if we give enough effort and keep going, our belabored efforts will somehow bring us up to snuff. They never do.
Back in the last century, Orville Redenbacher, the king of popcorn, [did you catch that?] popcorn, of all the unnoticeable things to be king of, said, “Do one thing and do it better than anyone else”. Orville was obviously a giant in his industry so I took this to heart and endeavored to be the best in at least one thing in the hopes of cornering the market, as it were and becoming the leader in my chosen field. After many attempts I had yet to find that elusive gift or talent with which I could take the world by storm.
So it set me to thinking. If someone, such as myself, imbued with such a vast array of talents, could be humbled by such simple statements, how could I ever discover that talent at which I might excel?
My first thought was to join the clergy, but then the memory of the horrified and bewildered looks of my friends and neighbors and women clasping their hands over children’s ears came to mind, the many times they had watched me work on my car in the driveway. I figured this could prove to be an insurmountable obstacle in my endeavor to become a spiritual giant amongst my piers.
I then considered my natural outdoor prowess and entertained the possibility of starting a dangerous game guide service. On the surface, it’s a “no brainer”. All you have to know is where the bears are, carry big guns, and make sure you can outrun at least one person in your party. That last point is where my plan fell apart. After a lifetime of pursuing the greatness hidden in my undiscovered talents, my body has paid the high price of blunt force trauma from charging my countless windmills. Consequently, I would only feel confident in running a geriatric dangerous game guide service, but the numbers just don’t support it as a viable business.
I then turned to my love of the water. With time served on the water, I have learned that I’m qualified to proceed with the written phase of the U.S.C.G. exam for a Captain’s license. All I would need now is around two thousand bucks for the fees and security endorsements, and of course a forty thousand dollar boat, first mate, and knowledge of the art of tending to intoxicated tourists to start making about half of what I need to break even!
To that point, I have decided to take up poetry as my newly chosen profession. If you think about it, it’s perfect. First of all, the entry cost is nonexistent and secondly, I don’t know any poets and as far as I know, none know me. In my circles I will be considered, if only by default, the leading authority on the subject. I can write and rhyme to my hearts content and if my poems don’t make sense, folks will just say, “You have to think about it” or “He’s such a deep thinker”. And if I can’t sell any of my works, all I have to say is, “Well, you know how tough the publishing game can be”. Yes sir, it’s pen and paper from here on out for this ole boy. Another positive point is that poetry doesn’t have to be happy or end well. With all the “experiences” I’ve embraced down through the years chasing my bliss, I could quite possibly write the next Great American Tragedy! My struggles with being too broke to fish, skinned knuckles and the humiliation of my singing abilities only scratch the surface of the massive library of my disappointing endeavors that will surely come together to become the literary masterpiece of the century, not likely to ever be rivaled! And if it doesn’t, I think I’ll take up politics.
Danny Maybin’s family have fished and hunted in the area of Lake Summit for at least six generations. He is a state firearms instructor a, blacksmith, musician/luthier, and his favorite, a fishin’ and hunting resort facilitator. He also does voice acting, copywriting, and short story humor.