Lockport Union-Sun & Journal — If you’re a regular reader of this column, let me just say: Really? Thank you. And if you ARE familiar with my whining, then there’s a good chance that you know that my wife and I like to spend time on the St. Lawrence River in our hometown area of Ogdensburg, N.Y.
Over the years, I’ve chronicled some of the (perceived) tough situations I’ve encountered while at the river. I try to put a lighter spin on the stories in an attempt to make it easier for me to cope. It’s therapeutic. And it’s cheaper than seeing a shrink. (I’m sorry if ‘shrink’ is offensive to those in the field — as if they’re reading this gibberish — but I’m not sure how to spell ‘psychiatrist’ and I don’t trust that ‘spell-check’ ginkus.)
I’m back at the river now, pounding out this column. I’ve traveled north – by myself — in an attempt to rectify problems before we (my family) come back later this summer. We want to be able to return to a smooth-running operation.
There are two situations that I came here specifically to fix. One is a malfunctioning water pump which isn’t pulling the river water into the camp – a must. The other is a non-functioning toilet which isn’t sending it out – an even more ‘muster’ ... you know what I mean. And obviously, the problems are inter-twined.
After a couple of hours of doing this and trying that, I had an epiphany. It suddenly dawned on me. Normally, when I’m faced with a challenge that requires problem solving, I never seem to get things right. Not this time, buckaroo! I was absolutely dead-on correct-a-mun-do with my experienced analysis.