Mackov the Mystic

Example Essay
I introduce to you the great, the mystifying , the mind-boggling Mackov the Psychic. That’s right ladies and gentlemen, a seer of secrets from the past, a diviner of untold truths. He is able to read your thoughts from simple notions to complex home remodeling desires. Ok enough of that, I’m not psychic, I barely have five full senses, let alone a sixth one. My wife swears up and down that I am indeed a mind reader due to some strange, (to her), happenings. Once I baffled her by knowing what she was thinking so precisely she had to pull the car over to stare at me mouth agape. Another time she only had to utter two words and again I stopped her cold with my cosmic foresight about a household appliance. And the biggest show stopper was when I read her mind from two-hundred miles away, it involved a complete overhaul of two of the rooms in our house. After the details of these strange events I’ll let you in on my secret but don’t tell Chickey, I told her I’d let her in on it when we celebrate our fiftieth anniversary and frankly, it’s just too much fun to watch her get freaked out.
We had just spent the weekend up in Greenville with my in-laws. We had been up there for the Fly-in and were on the car ride home, tuckered out and ready get home and veg. Chickey was driving as she always does and I was laid back in the passenger seat with my nose crammed in my current read. We had just entered Abbot and Chickey breaks the silence. “Hey babe, you know what I was thinking?” I didn’t take my face from the pages I just said, “Yup.” In a mock challenging tone she says, “Oh yeah, what?” I’m stop reading, look at her and tell her. “You would like to stop at Walmart on the way home and pick up Mona Lisa’s smile and stuff for tater-tot casserole for dinner tonight. How’d I do?” She slowed down, pulled over and just stared at me with her jaw slacked and a look of bewilderment in her pretty eyes. She stumbled over questions trying to get me to tell her how I nailed it that accurately and like a good hubby I played it up until she gave up and continued the journey home.
A few minor events happened between that and this next one and it became an ongoing joke slash mystery. We were at home enjoying a stormy winter day in the house. I was sitting in my Archie Bunker chair whittling a set of camp utensils and she was puttering around the house. Now a little side note here, we were expecting a small return from our taxes that year. She pokes her head in the room and says, “Hey Hon?” It had the tone of an oncoming idea she was having and I took the opportunity. I told her to hang on a sec, I ran into my man cave, (my office) and came back out with a folded piece of paper. “Yes dear what’s on your mind?” Chickey informs me that she thinks we should take that return money and replace our refrigerator. I hand her the folded paper, she reads. ‘New Fridge With Taxes – TA-DA!” Again, mouth agape, eyes bugging out. “Seriously? Do you have a chip in my brain? I just had that thought ten seconds ago.” I egg her on a bit, give her my blessing on the fridge and she shuffles off scratching her head.
Now for the biggest and best example of my Madam Cleo style powers. Chickey was away on a long weekend. She was staying with her cousin down in Boston. When she arrived home, the bathroom had been remodeled with new flooring, counter, sink, shelving, crapper and a fresh coat of paint. In the kitchen, I replaced the counter and sink, got rid of the archaic returnable bin my father and I built fifteen years ago and built a shelving unit for the toaster oven. Oh yeah and her new mountain bike was sitting out in the shed waiting for it’s maiden voyage. She was absolutely floored because she hadn’t said word one about any of these things but she wanted it. She was mixed between speechless and hammering me with questions about who told me or how I was able to use ‘my powers’ from Holden to Boston. But rock solid me wouldn’t give in. I was loving every stammered word of her confusion and happiness. She gave me a big hug and kiss and whispered, “ I love you but any chance you could stay the hell out of my head?” Nope, not a chance in the world.
So, I’ve already told you I’m not psychic. What I am is clever, quick and observant. That, coupled with a lesson my Pepere taught me when I was a very little boy has given me the appearance of being a mystic. That lesson was that you can learn more about someone by watching and listening rather than talking and asking questions. The more exposure I have to someone the more things my brain picks up and catalogues. The way they do things, the way they like things and the little comments they make to themselves or in conversations they don’t think I hear, all these things get filed away for later use. As an added bonus, I usually have the mannerisms that I’m not paying full attention so it’s assumed I’m either not listening or can’t be bothered. In my Chickey’s case, she has been a major part of my life for fourteen years my brain has three vaults, a self-storage unit and a Chevy conversion van filled with harrumphs, sighs, looks, phrases, habits, likes, dislikes desires and the list goes on. So when she thinks she’s having the thought for the first time, she’s actually had notions and fragments of the thought before, this is just the first time she’s fully formed it . And of course I’m clever enough and know her habits and brain enough to put two and two together and quick enough to make it seem spooky. This sort of stuff happens with friends and family on a less frequent basis. And it all boils down to just observing with my eyes and ears open and my mouth shut.

M/3=X?

Mack/3=X
One of my former employers used to get a bit bitchy when I’d inform him of a shortage in my pay check. He couldn’t understand how I could get upset about twenty-five to fifty dollars when he was dealing with deficits in the range of a grand to two hundred thousand. I tried to explain to him that it’s all relative. His dollar volume for his company was as important to him as mine was to my house hold and family. That fifty dollars is my hundred large. I think the same goes with people’s beings, their problems and issues. I think I am extremely different than my peers and that not many would understand what goes on in my head but in all honesty there are several million humans thinking the same exact thing. However, this five grapher aint about them, it’s about me. I am three different people depending my environment and who’s around me, or better yet, who’s not.
Jovial ol’ Mack, fun loving, charming husband, goof ball, bread winner for the fam, that’s what my wife, friends and family see. I do love to have a good time and want those around me to be happy, but truth be told most of my personality and behavior when surrounded by those closest to me is charade. I’m a loner, not like dark rebel sorts portrayed in the classic movies, nothing so glamorous as that. I just love to be alone. I’m so nervous when I’m around people that I wind myself up tighter than a turkeys touch-hole. So, I’ve become a pretty good actor, I plan what I’m going to do and rehearse what I’m going to say to steer things in a certain direction. I don’t stay up at night scripting tomorrow’s events or practice in the mirror. It is usually a lightning fast check list to make sure I don’t let what I’m really thinking come to surface. If I did it would probably go like this; “Attention-attention! In an orderly fashion, could all y’all asses please line up shortest to tallest and promptly leave my planet?” Since we all know that’s no way to be, I’ve trained myself to say “Yes dear.” Opposed to “What the hell makes my time less valuable than yours? Go get it yourself and leave me be!”
Work is a different story. I’m still grossly uncomfortable having to deal with people and shy away from any in depth socializing at work. But I think most of my coworkers would label me friendly and personable with a slight chance of temper flares. I’m still plotting my actions but fortunately I work in a field where it’s accepted and somewhat expected that attitudes and tempers will snap from time to time. I keep my head buried in my work as much as I can so I don’t have to deal with them too much and save my blow-outs for situations where I need a pressure relief. A prime example happened just last week. My co-worker and I were knocking tin when another crews foreman came up and tried to bully us out of our area as his work was more important. As our foreman wasn’t present he thought he’d get away with it. Sorry chief, real Mack is coming out. “Maybe you need to go to the tool crib and get a glass stomach, because apparently your heads up your ass and you can’t see you’ve walked into our area. You want us to leave, go talk to Mike, if he says we go, we go.” Wow, that felt good, now back to pretending to be a nice guy.
Solo-Mack. My favorite person to be. As I said I’m a loner. I can’t explain in words how I feel when there’s no one around, I’ve got the house to myself or I’m out in my shop. I don’t have to watch my language, I can think freely, mentally comment on people, things and ideas without feeling judged. I only have to deal with one ass and that’s me. I don’t get this time nearly enough for my tastes but maybe that makes it all the more valuable. I get more accomplished during these times because my mind is focused on the task at hand or no task at all and not fractured into thinking about what to say next, who’s around me, what should I do in this situation. There is a song by Garth Brooks and it’s one of my absolute favorites, it’s titled The man that I am when there’s no one around. Not all the words match up with me but the message is true. When I’m alone I am at my truest form.
Those are my three masks and I’m not sure what that makes me. Does M/3= a con artist? Does it equal a guy clever enough fake it to survive? Am I different from everyone else or just as different as everyone else? Would a profiler label me as a schizophrenic, anti-social narcissist with anger issues? Frankly I don’t care what it makes, it’s hard enough for me to do it, let alone break it down and understand it. And I don’t mind if the profiler profiles me like that, as long as he does it remotely and doesn’t have to actually talk to me.

Research Graph

Research Graph
I was taught at a young age that a boy needs to be able to tie basic knots for the variety of work related and recreational activities he’ll do. For the most part I fulfill that requirement. I can tie your basics; bowline, heaving line, slip, clove, guy-line, sheep shank, constrictor, barrel, but I’m not rope or knot master. I am however always learning of a new knot and trying it out and about a year ago my buddy Curt asked me if I’d ever heard of ‘fusion knots’. He figured if anyone would know it would be me. He thought that for two reasons; first, I am always heckling him when he practices ‘if you can’t tie a knot tie a lot’, and second I am considered among my peers as a king of useless knowledge. But I had never heard of these fusion knots, however I did tell him I’d know more by morning. With that stored in my head, when I got home that night I Googled fusion knots and the standard ten thousand links came up.
The first link that caught my eye was titled, ‘tying fusion knots by…blah-blah’. *Click* that click alone was the beginning of a small obsession. The page was filled with mini links, the links where pictures of cool looking knots that seemed intricate and way more complicated than I was used to and they all had names that I’d never heard before; River bends, Solomon bars, Bugler’s braid. Clicking on these sub links took me to instructional write ups with rough drawings. I grabbed a hank of parachord from my shop and tried to tie a few with no success. The instruction appeared to be written by a NASA shuttle technician and the illustrations by his three year old. I hit the back arrow to see what other sites had to offer.
I clicked through various links and got a little more informed each time but didn’t find any site that could teach me how to tie these knots, explain their function or even fill me in on the definition of a ‘fusion knot’. On one site it might show me a really detailed picture of a finished Solomon bar but wouldn’t show me how to get there or what to do with it once I had it. The next would tell me Solomon Bars are good to use as belts but again, had poor instructional methods and didn’t fill me in on what made this ‘fusion’ material. I was getting a bit agitated but that’s par for the course when you’re on the hunt for knowledge.
About twelve to fifteen sites into my downward spiral of failed results and getting groggy I hit the alpha and omega, the fiddler’s green of my search. This link took me two a blog style site with Youtube video support and within a few seconds I had come to the conclusion, this must be the guy who invented fusion knots. Besides the fancy headers and tool buttons, the first useable piece on the site was a dictionary style blurb explaining what fusion knots are. Then there were the knot links that when clicked upon would take you to a very well filmed video of each knot, step by step. Finally I knew that a fusion knot is a decoratively tied rope that also has practical and functional uses. So from the previous site where it said an S-bar could make a good belt it meant that it is the fusion between decoration and function. Also I have the method to tie such items.
That site has been on my favorites bar since that night. I’ve learned how to tie several pieces that have proved useful and been the topic of conversation when people see them. I have; Solomon bar tool lanyards, a slats rescue belt, river bar bracelets that make great gifts, monkey’s fists (originally used as a heaving line tool, but now also makes a great dog catch toy.) and many other neat tied pieces. On an end note, it turns out the gentleman that does all this tying started out hosting parties where he would teach couples how to add knot tying bondage to their intimate moments…I’ll stick with fusion knots.

Contrast

Here we are again at another famous bonfire hosted by Chris, Jack and me. We have a burn every weekend we can during good weather. It’s dark enough to light the pile and we’re all well into the libations. I don’t even offer to touch the fire off, not that I’m not capable but I know it’s going to much more entertaining to watch Chris and Jack battle it out. Jack crumples up some paper and wood chips and strategically places them around and in the pile and starts to light each one of them with his high-end twin butane cigar lighter. Uh-oh here comes Chris with a large coffee tumbler. I know what’s in that cup and Jack would too but he’s not paying attention. With a casual toss, Chris lobs cup and all onto one of Jacks little paper fires and *Woosh*. Instantly the entire pile is crackling to life with fifteen foot flames. Jack jumps back starts checking to see if he’s on fire while Chris is howling with laughter. “How’d you like that Nancy?” Chris ribs. Jack just gives him a deadpan look, “You’re a fucking cave man you realize that?” These are my oldest and closest friends, and being my friend is pretty much it for similarities. I’ve known Jack for twenty-six years and Chris I’ve known for a lot less time of twenty-four years. As different as those two are it’s amazing they even admit to knowing each other let alone be best friends for so long. I often wonder if it’s an ‘opposites attract’ situation or a, ‘keep your friends close and enemies closer’ deal
Right off the bat you can see the differences. Jack does not own work clothes, he has clothes he’s willing to work in and then send to the cleaners. He’s has out fits for any social occasion, suits, sports clothes, western apparel etc. Then there’s Chris; if he needs to dress up, this involves a trip to Walmart to pick up an outfit because the last outfit got dirty fixing the van or deciding it was a good day to wrestle with the dog in the rain. On a day to day basis Jack sits around his house in ‘slacks’ a button down and clean sneakers or shoes while Chris is wearing greasy work shorts a tattered tank top and just the skin on his feet he was born with. Seeing these two together in public or at an event is like watching a clash of the classes.
Both men work hard and are good guys to have on your team regardless of what the project is. However the approaches they take couldn’t be more different. If we need to lift an engine block of the shop floor Jack will have a plan set up to hook a chain fall here and there, use the strong back bar as a fulcrum and then lift and drift the engine on to the work bench or into the vehicle. Jacks theory is more mental less physical whenever possible even if it takes longer. Chris will have none of that tom foolery. Chris is an animal so it only makes sense to just heave the block up with man power and drop it in place. If we try Jack’s plan, Chris helps but will let you know this is how sissies do things. If we go with Chris’ plan, Jack will tell Chris; “You’re gonna kill yourself idiot and I’m not going to feel bad.” The project always gets done but sometimes it takes as long to decide how.
Jack is a social butterfly and a perfect stranger. At gatherings of any size and for any reason, Jack is right at home. He’s able to hold his own in any conversation and has the social manners of a socialite or playboy. In simple terms Chris does not really like humans. Sometimes we wonder if he just barely tolerates us. If he is forced to attend events that involve more than his close friends and family, he tends to find a chair or corner out of the way and avoid interaction until his wife decides he’s suffered enough. Jack will be polite and show genuine interest in others. Chris is more likely to feign interest for as long as his impatience will allow and then find the quickest means out of the situation.
Those are my two best friends and as different as they are, they’ve managed a friendship that spans over two decades. I can’t be sure but I’d almost bet that the reason for this long running streak is because the one trait they both have is pure stubbornness. Neither will let either see the other quit first. I don’t know which one I’m more like. I can’t stopping reffing their differences long enough figure it out.

Contrast Intro Edit

Here we are again at another famous bonfire hosted by Chris, Jack and me. We have a burn every weekend we can during good weather. It’s dark enough to light the pile and we’re all well into the libations. I don’t even offer to touch the fire off, not that I’m not capable but I know it’s going to much more entertaining to watch Chris and Jack battle it out. Jack crumples up some paper and wood chips and strategically places them around and in the pile and starts to light each one of them with his high-end twin butane cigar lighter. Uh-oh here comes Chris with a large coffee tumbler. I know what’s in that cup and Jack would too but he’s not paying attention. With a casual toss, Chris lobs cup and all onto one of Jacks little paper fires and *Woosh*. Instantly the entire pile is crackling to life with fifteen foot flames. Jack jumps back starts checking to see if he’s on fire while Chris is howling with laughter. “How’d you like that Nancy?” Chris ribs. Jack just gives him a deadpan look, “You’re a fucking cave man you realize that?” These are my oldest and closest friends, and being my friend is pretty much it for similarities. I’ve known Jack for twenty-six years and Chris I’ve known for a lot less time of twenty-four years. As different as those two are it’s amazing they even admit to knowing each other let alone be best friends for so long. I often wonder if it’s an ‘opposites attract’ situation or a, ‘keep your friends close and enemies closer’ deal.

Contrast Intros

Chris and Jack
Intro one
Chris and Jack are my oldest and closest friends, and being my friend is pretty much it for similarities. I’ve known Jack for twenty-six years and Chris I’ve known for a lot less time of twenty-four years. As different as those two are it’s amazing they even admit to knowing each other let alone be best friends for so long. I often wonder if it’s an ‘opposites attract’ situation or a, ‘keep your friends close and enemies closer’ deal.

Intro two
I’ve had the same two best friends for the last twenty-four years. Chris and Jack, I couldn’t ask for two better friends or two more polar opposite friends either. Whenever we all get together, I get the slight feeling I’m in a modern day episode of the odd couple. Chris is the true epitome of a rough and tumble redneck, where as Jack is culturally diverse and has the social manners of a noble. Oil, meet water.

Mack the Knife

Man, I love my knives and I’ve got several. Now before you go thinking I’m one of those crazy-eye, redneck Rambos with a ten inch combat knife on my belt, I’m not and in my opinion that’s not a knife is a short sword. I just believe a good knife is an essential tool to have and the job I’m doing defines what a good knife is. I don’t concern myself with the handle size or shape; I can replace that if I choose. The length of the blade plays a part but not as big a part as some would think. For me it’s all about the cutting edge or “business end” as my father would say. When it comes to the blade of the knife, I have found, with one of three blade styles, I can perform any task requiring a knife.
The first blade style is thin steel with a single bevel. Examples of this type of blade are; utility knives, surgical tools and my all time favorite, the original Swiss Army Tinker. The back of the blade is at most 1/16” wide but usually much thinner. This means the steel tapers down from back to edge with not steep angle change. What does this mean as far as cutting? Well, there is almost no drag from the back of the blade and since you start and finish the cut using the same angle there’s no fiber pull or forcing the blade into the material. I use my Tinker for high detail work such as wood carving, whittling and other tasks where you have to be precise in what stays and what goes. I can’t imagine trying to carve Santa’s nostrils out with a Rambo knife.
I do a lot of activities that I wouldn’t let my precious Tinker near. So, I reach for my splicer. The splicer style of blade is good for more abrasive and repetitive works. I’ll use it if I’m cutting rope, opening cardboard boxes or making impromptu tent stakes and marshmallow sticks. (Rope and cardboard are both horribly destructive on knife blades.) The splicer blade at the back end is maybe 1/8” at most and angles down toward the edge. Before it meets the edge it changes the angle five to ten degrees. This puts more meat in the cutting edge allowing the blade to stay honed longer and lets me put more force behind it. The down side to this is that I spend more time sharpening this knife due to the tasks I use it for.
The last and least used blade style is the chisel blade. This blade has the shape of a wood chisel but not such a steep angle. It is completely flat on one side of the blade and tapers down to a razor edge on the other side. Most blades of this style have a serrated edge and I can’t figure out why. If your knife is sharp you shouldn’t need the serrations and if you need the serrations, get a saw. But the shape of this blade is ideal for cutting or shaving something off the surface without digging into the body of the material. I used this style of blade to shave while on Army field exercises, it will cut the hair off but due to the flat side it won’t dig into your skin. I’ll also use it occasionally if my wood carving has gotten moist or sat too long and developed fibers on the surface, this will take them off without cutting the actual carving.
Ok, I admit, not all of the knives in my possession are good knives that fall into one of the above three categories. I’ve received several knives as gifts from friends and family all with good intentions. I’ve won some as prizes and even bought a few in a “pinch” situation. But those knives are all corralled in an ammo can in the back of my shop and probably won’t see the light of day for a long time. Why? They’re not the right blade for any job.