I have always been a little bit late. Some would call me a late bloomer, while others just pointed and laughed.
In grade school, I was usually among the last picked for any sports and in little league I was usually the kid picking his nose in left field when the ball was hit to me.
In high school, I had to take an extra year of algebra II because it just didn't make sense to me the first time I took it. I decided to do it to keep up with my friends who all seemed to be faster and first, and I somehow muscled through to finish in the top of my class.
I was even late when it came to girls. My first kiss came in the fall of my Junior year.
In the United States Coast Guard Academy, I was always a day late and dollar short. My cadre would leave little notes for me on my desk telling me my attention to detail was lacking. Boy howdy, was that an understatement.
I spent most of that school year, recovering from multiple surgeries, in the Academy medical ward thanks to some bad doctoring and an overly persistent sinus infection.
It wasn't until adulthood however that my late blooming would become a real issue for me.
I graduated UCONN, a year behind my class, and whiled away much of my 20's drinking and learning to sail.
By the time I got to grad school, just a few years late, I was way behind in life. While many of my friends were getting married and having babies, I was on turtle time. I broke up with my girlfriend at the time and went to Boston University to study science journalism.
What they didn't tell me and what I later learned was that it was primarily a magazine journalism program. And while a 10,000-word article is impressive, it completely bores the crap out of me. I called an audible and switched over to the broadcast side of the school.
It wasn't until the waning days of my grad degree that I even happened upon something I really liked. I took a class in documentary production. I worked with a team of kids from the film school, and we made a short film about the migrant issues in horse racing in Massachusetts, and that I think is where I really got the bug to want to make documentaries.
A bad episode with a camera and a Nobel laureate convinced me to go back to sailing for a living, however, and my dream to make films would be delayed further.
By this time, I was Thirty and dating a few different people, but ultimately I couldn't bring myself to settle down. So my first love, the sea, called to me once again.
I convinced my employer to pay for a captain's course, and I became a captain. I figured some day I would make my way back to journalism, but not quite yet.
I founded a non-profit and whiled away another decade. It was on my Fortieth birthday that my life would start to take shape the way it should have when I was 20.
I had just started dating my wife-to-be, my mother would soon be dead, and my return to writing would begin again.
7 years later, a few thousand miles and a long dry stay in the desert, I got my first job back in journalism at a radio station in Klamath Falls. Once again, I wound up in the wrong spot.
Who has two thumbs, gets a master’s degree in broadcast journalism and then works at a Radio station in Klamath Falls? This guy.
Thankfully I woke to my mistake and now, that I am on the eve of my 48th birthday, I am making the effort to film my first documentary. I hung The Charted Life shingle out and have applied to a few hundred videographer jobs, but it looks like I'll be staying here in Klamath Falls for the remainder of my time until I am ready to make the Great Loop.
What you don't know about me is while I take my time getting there, once I am there, it's a race to the finish. Yes, my first kiss came in the fall of my junior year, but I lost my virginity in December of the same year. Once I am there, I'm there.
So while it has taken me a good long time to get myself ready to make films, I am now there and soon enough I'll be making The Great Loop. Just don't rush me.
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