The Misadventures of Cheri

Mortifying my kids one swimsuit at a time

Quirky

on July 19, 2012

Yeah, I’m quirky.  I was unaware of one of my quirks until this past week.  My friend, Tara, recently addressed a group of people where she mentions in it that growing up in Alaska leads to quirkiness in your life.  Trust me, she is so right.  (You can watch Tara’s debut in the comedy world here.  You’ll be glad you did!)

Growing up, my grandparents had a bearskin rug.  The entire thing from head with long, bared teeth, to the little stubby tail in the back – it was gorgeous.  I spent countless hours as a child playing on the rug.  As I grew older it got moved to the wall (probably from all the “countless hours.”  Oops.)

Oh, did I mention it was a grizzly bear hide?  And did I mention how my grandpa came into possession of it?  I will make it a short story because it’s all my psyche will be able to handle.  In the 60’s my grandpa, his brother and a couple of friends went hunting.  While they were sleeping one night, a grizzly decided it needed to be in the tent.  So it broke in, in the total darkness of the wilderness, and attacked.  Someone (either my grandpa or his brother) got stuck in their sleeping bag and couldn’t escape.  At some point my grandpa shot the bear dead.

I remember as a child (and probably yesterday, too) trying to wrap my mind around being attacked by a grizzly, in the dead of night and being trapped in your sleeping bag.  And here’s where we get to the previously undiscovered quirky . . . . apparently I am petrified of bears.

Where I live now this isn’t much of an issue.  But living in Alaska for as long as I did, I saw a few bears in the wild.  And I was never impressed.  More like blood running cold shock.

Fast forward to last week.  Tyler and I were at Crater Lake and we drove through a campground.  The sign that greeted the visitors said something to the effect of, “Bears have been sighted.  Make sure your food is locked up.”  GASP!  But I was okay.  As we drove around, I noticed each campsite had a lockable, steel cache to keep food in.  What I wanted to do at that point was yell, shake Tyler and scream, “Bears! Bears! Bears!  BEARS!!!!”  The (very small) rational part of my brain took over and I calmly said, “I don’t think I would want to camp anywhere that provides caches because of, ya know, (clearing throat, barely maintaining control) bears.”

He nonchalantly says, “All that’s around here are black bears.”

Oh.

You mean man-eating attack machines aren’t lurking around every corner set on devouring me?

That’s good to know.

Also good to know is that black bears are much less “man-eaty.”  I can breathe out now.

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One response to “Quirky

  1. Debbie says:

    Okay – the correlation between Alaska and “quirky” is uncanny. I’ve been called “quirky” a couple of times, and it’s almost always been in relation to a conversation about Alaska. How weird is that?

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