I’ve had a few fits and starts in my attempts to address this months theme. We’ve all had some pretty ridiculous adventures because of our amateur status. I was hoping to do some reporting on two friends. One of them, Bryan, has had some interesting run-ins with the LDS Church archives thanks to his amateur historian status. Another one, John, is a musician in the Gorgeous Hussies and I wanted him to talk about music. However Bryan’s wife gave birth to twins last week and John is a busy musician so no luck.
As an amateur “travel agent” I once tried to organize a trip out to the sun tunnels in the west desert of Utah on the summer solstice. We ended up getting there way after sundown, and there was only a freaky looking, bug-eyed guy sitting on the tailgate of his pick up staring blankly into the night a little ways off you could make out the flames of a fire surrounded by dancing naked hippies making bad music while infusing the night air with potent marijuana fumes. Total bust. We missed the Nevada rancher protecting his 8 year-old daughter’s innocence by threatening said naked hippies at gunpoint, not to mention the sunset perfectly framed by large concrete tubes. We ended up circumnavigating the entire Great Salt Lake that night. In case you ever attempt the feat. Dr. Pepper is your friend. Also watch out for jack rabbits they are not accustomed to people actually driving those roads.
As amateur hobos my roommate and I started a campaign of short distance hitchhiking and sleeping in public parks during our travels. The most memorable experience of our experiment occurring when we camped out in the arboretum on Stanford University’s campus after a Cure concert. We were awakened to morning walkers considering whether or not they should call the police to have us removed. Way to ruin a perfectly sunny, eucalyptus scented morning. Californians are so laid back and liberal. Somehow that memory eclipses this next one, but when you compare the potential outcomes it doesn’t make sense. Later that day we tried our hands at vigilante justice. An irate driver tried to run us off the road on our way up I-80 towards Lake Tahoe. He actually tried to force us into a concrete barrier while traveling at 65 miles per hour. He pulled up along side us and swerved really quickly into our lane and then sped off. It turns out the California highway patrol isn’t that excited about tracking these people down. I imagine they get calls like ours many times an hour. “Yeah, someone tried to run you off the road, what would you like us to do?” We eventually talked them into dropping by his home to inform him that vanity plates reading “I DIG WRK” and attempted anonymous vehicular homicide aren’t really compatible. Either ditch the plates or finish the job. The CHiPs got a kick out of that one.
Given the relative proximity of the Winter Olympics I thought a piece discussing various mishaps of Olympic organizing committees would be appropriate. You know bribery and the Salt Lake games, and the flames that refused to ignite and bumpy ice in Vancouver. You know “The Olympics have traditionally been a celebration of ‘amateur athletics’ but the guys running the show turn out to be pretty amateurish themselves”. Then I figured I wouldn’t want to pile on; I’ll let the times of London do it for me. There is one story I was ignorant of prior to my brief researches into the aforementioned subjects. This guy definitely embodies the spirit of amateur competition.
I think a love and appreciation of amateurism has something to do with our Nation’s origins and subsequent history. A group of fired up colonists get fed up and declare war on the most powerful nation on Earth and win. Those same people go on to a crazy experimental form of government and start electing amateur leaders like Andrew Jackson or George W. Bush to lead their nation. When land area gets a little tight they set off in wagons and walk across a continent to set up new cities and states. There’s a lot in our history that makes amateurism seem really honorable and potentially successful.
There’s the potent force of the pride of independence combined with native cheapness that really gets you into the best jams. Why admit defeat and pay someone to do something you should be able to do yourself? This sort of thinking has led my father and me to an attempt to cut down a tree overhanging the power line leading into my parent’s house. A project that ended when I actually picked up the tree, which by this time had been cut with a chainsaw and was hanging over the same power line we didn’t want it to fall on in the first place held up only by a ¼” nylon rope, by the trunk and moved it to where it wouldn’t fall on the power line. It wasn’t a huge tree, but the act required every bit of strength I had and hurt my back. I think this story highlights the compelling feature of stories of amateurism. The problem isn’t necessarily the task at hand, but the unforeseen details and ancillary tasks that arise as consequences of taking the job of a professional. The devil is always in the details. Anyone who has seen American Movie knows what I’m talking about. There doesn’t appear to be any real middle ground for amateurism. Either you’re amazing because ‘look what you can do without any formal training, isn’t it amazing?’, or there are catastrophic failures.
This Mormon Life 