2008 Woodie Awards
Humor : Have you seen my temper?
Danny Harry
Issue date: 3/2/05 Section: Opinion
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I've never understood the saying, "I lost my temper," because the temper most of us first think about is a fit of rage. In that case, when I get angry, I have no problem finding my temper. The dictionary says temper is both rage or tendency to become easily angered, and a calmness of mind or emotions. This calmness is what I choose to lose in frustrating situations, like learning how to cross country ski.
I'm helping out with the Pocatello Junior Cross Country Ski Team, trying to help coach, but realistically learning how to ski better. In fact, 90 percent of the kids on the team are better than me. The other three kids started this year. During one practice, we focused on skate skiing. I followed talented youth as they smoothly skated up a hill without using poles. I looked like a spastic chicken with a backache, bobbing forward, skis slapping the icy snow, arms flailing to keep my balance. Eventually I ran duck-footed up the hill until slipping, sending me chest first to the snow right in front of the team. Humiliation defined. Were I alone, I would have quickly found my enraged temper and bitten both skis in half.
Then we practiced sailing down the hill in tuck position. I waited as each skier gracefully flew down the incline. I pointed skis downhill and tucked, wobbling the whole way and nearly crashing again at the base of the hill while everyone watched. "He looks like Dumbo," one boy said to his friend while commenting about my beanie with ear flaps. I agreed and laughed. "I'd stretch your ears until you looked like Dumbo, if only I could ski over to you," I thought. Such thoughts indicate a building loss of calming temper. Thankfully, I restrain angry temper better when I'm around people.
A week later I arrived at the ski trails before the team. Solo skiing, I tried to skate using skis prepared for a different ski style. Within seconds, my hip crashed to the hard-packed snow. Calmly, I brushed myself off and continued up a hill. My skis could barely grip the icy snow. With each sideways push, I fought against doing sideways splits with every stride. Soon my inner thigh muscles burned as if they would spontaneously combust at any moment. I hyper speed-duck waddled up the next hill, a technique that gives the appearance of moving quickly with little momentum and little forward progress.
I'm helping out with the Pocatello Junior Cross Country Ski Team, trying to help coach, but realistically learning how to ski better. In fact, 90 percent of the kids on the team are better than me. The other three kids started this year. During one practice, we focused on skate skiing. I followed talented youth as they smoothly skated up a hill without using poles. I looked like a spastic chicken with a backache, bobbing forward, skis slapping the icy snow, arms flailing to keep my balance. Eventually I ran duck-footed up the hill until slipping, sending me chest first to the snow right in front of the team. Humiliation defined. Were I alone, I would have quickly found my enraged temper and bitten both skis in half.
Then we practiced sailing down the hill in tuck position. I waited as each skier gracefully flew down the incline. I pointed skis downhill and tucked, wobbling the whole way and nearly crashing again at the base of the hill while everyone watched. "He looks like Dumbo," one boy said to his friend while commenting about my beanie with ear flaps. I agreed and laughed. "I'd stretch your ears until you looked like Dumbo, if only I could ski over to you," I thought. Such thoughts indicate a building loss of calming temper. Thankfully, I restrain angry temper better when I'm around people.
A week later I arrived at the ski trails before the team. Solo skiing, I tried to skate using skis prepared for a different ski style. Within seconds, my hip crashed to the hard-packed snow. Calmly, I brushed myself off and continued up a hill. My skis could barely grip the icy snow. With each sideways push, I fought against doing sideways splits with every stride. Soon my inner thigh muscles burned as if they would spontaneously combust at any moment. I hyper speed-duck waddled up the next hill, a technique that gives the appearance of moving quickly with little momentum and little forward progress.