Picture, if you will, the following scene in your mind's eye. Some dude from Boston is trying to sail a dingy from Nantucket to Cape Cod while on his summer vacation. It is a foregone conclusion he and his buds will get lost. The only question is what they will do when it happens.
The answer, apparently, is shout "where the Fuck are we!", in a down market Massachusetts accent, while desperately tryimg to hold off sinking into a full blown panic. When Translated into the colloquial, thus becomes "Where da Fig-a-wi" or "Figawi" for short.
Recalling my Nantucket experience, and my "unexpected" attendance at the Figawi in May 1997, brings to mind what seems to be an apt metaphor for being lost, both figuratively and literally. How one reacts in these situations can often be a matter of life and death. Likewise it's often the times when we land in the proverbial chicken shit that we come up with our best chicken salad ever.
This is exactly what happened to the Figawi founders. In current times Figawi is now a big annual charity and race event taking place on Nantucket every summer. More recently attended by the baseball hat-docksider-Bermuda shorts-and raybans-wearing Bostonian hoi polloi, it is now a black tie affair attended by the likes of Ted Kennedy even in the midst of his cancer battle.
As I said I went to the Figawi once. It was the beginning of an auspicious summer where it seemed like one silly adventure another, all of which started innocently enough, but gravitated into a downward trajectory until we barely made it of the island with our physical safety and criminal records still in tact. If I had to have a name for my summer on Nantucket it would be "Figwawi Tankin" as in what the fuck were we thinking when we: jumped the cash desk (and the 50 dollar cover) at the Figawi Clam bake, leaving with the dates of a couple of arrogant Boston yuppies; drove my parents station wagon into the ditch after drinking the bottle of mescal on father’s day; brought bloody marries to work in our thermoses; slept on the floor in a motel laundromat like homeless folks during a road trip to Cape c\Cod so we could see a show with band America; regularly smoked left handed cigarette on the roof of the Wahwinnut inn, (where we had summer jobs as part of the reconstruction crew); challenged the local gas station owner to call the police after we drove away with the nozzle still in the gas tank (they called, the police took the their side), and so on.
Our piece de resistance of the summer, however, was when we left personally crafted "presents" (not with our hands, mind you) for our ex-roommates in strategic locations around our rental house (like the lower left hand crisper drawer in the fridge). This was to show our appreciation for them not letting us sublet our room to Johnny, the 50-year old alcoholic, African American colleague who got kicked out of his own house for cheating on his wife or stealing from his neighbor, or something. Johnny worked construction with us (when he wasn't getting fired for being drunk or absent). We thought Johnny was cool because he could grill a mean blue fish and mix a killer vodka cranberry cocktail, so we thought he would be a really cool roommate, at least for our existing roommates.
Needless to say this last adventure of the summer didn't end so well. We thought we would get away before the presets were discovered. But alas, just as we were pulling away, Hervie opened up the damn crisper drawer, where our gift awaited , in all its brown, steamy glory, appropriately textured, half way between a lumpy-firm and formless-soft consistency. Perfect for the purpose we had in mind, might I add. I can still picture him through the window, furiously searching, just knowing we wouldn't depart without leaving a good bye token of our appreciation. Just as we were scrambling for the getaway I saw he was opening the fridge. Surely when would start rifling through drawers, and I knew the gig was up. As it scary as this was though, watching him discover yet another of our gifts on the hood of his car provided a comical context to the situation. We were all making like a Starsky and Hutch film now, having a full blown car chase down to the ferry, and yet the temporary hood ornament we had so generaously bestowed, was staring at us in the rearview mirror. Let’s just say part of managed to see the humor in this
The situation neared the edge of real disaster when my roommate pulled his Swiss army knife on poor Hervie, admittedly in self defense. Slightly scary in the moment, very soon after it was nothing but comic heroism. In hind sight, as all the other potential outcomes of this college prank gone awry flash through my mind, I can only call it truly frightening. Once again, the phrase "what the Figwawi Tankin" comes to mind
So why do I mention all this crap about my zany college days? Because I think it speaks to the nature of the journey. You don't always know where you are and that's ok. But occasionally you do need to ask your self - where da Figawi. In doing so it is important to recognize where you are coming from and where you want to get to. The nature of the Journey is typically one of moving forward, not of returning to places we've already been. And certainly it is my case as I have yet to get back to Nantucket, for both the obvious reasons and otherwise. That said, I am keen to make it back to Nantucket, perhaps to have a proper vacation at the Wahwinnut Inn
So for me, today seems like a good day for asking the question “where the Figawi”, in terms of my resolutions. My first resolution was to get healthy, so let me document what I have done so far
· visited the doctor 2x in \Kiev and arrange for one more follow-up follow ups
· Researched and found through colleagues recommendation a good physical therapist who is also a licensed MD - (guy even helped Chad, the drummer from RHCP
· Visited the doctor 2 xs in Bratislava, got my blood tested and a follow up with good results!
Still missing:
· wart lady and wart medicine
· Dentist (ugh:()
· lung function test
· therapy session with the family constellations guy
· thyroid nothing
· blood pressure nothing
Progress on other 11 resolutions:
1. lose weight: getting ready - diet so-so, exercise so-so, results so-so - at least \I have a plan
2. Open a business - spoke with an accountant, discussed with Eva
3. Play guitar - zip
4. Time with boys - laser tag 1x, football 1x, birthday dinner (more board games and less video games)
5. photography - zippo
6. Languages - some lessons and some homework - by far not enough!
7. Hobbit 1x, Write a novel - got an idea . . .
8. The novel - one really killer idea!
9. Become an LSS MBB: one test 100% - better hurray!!!!! (Man was I (drunk and) lazy thus weekend!)
10. Stay employed: so-so, some steps on project portfolio and pipeline, some steps on networking (Jeff S, Schmid, Jan, Linked in, Zuzka)
11. Phd: (Panic!. On case study - outline, and some task related - too slow!!!
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