The Joplin Globe, Joplin, MO

Local News

Discussion

June 29, 2009

Mike Pound: Semi-wilderness no match for the news

Nobody told me.

The whole time I was floating down the North Fork River, or roughing it in the large, air-conditioned cabin watching baseball on the Dish Network, nobody told me about Mark Sanford.

Sure, they told me about Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett, but nobody told me about Mark. But I guess that’s the way it should be. When you set out into the wilderness — or in my case, the semi-wilderness — you’re supposed to leave the hustle and bustle of everyday life behind. You’re supposed to get away from the headlines. From the phone calls. From the e-mails.

Unless, of course, you have one of those Swiss Army knife cell phones. Several people who were roughing it with me in the semi-wilderness had their Swiss Army knife cell phones with them. I did not. I don’t have a Swiss Army knife cell phone. I have a cell phone that allows me to call people or to speak with people who call me. My cell phone also takes pictures, but they’re too small for me to see. I think my cell phone might let me do other things, but I’m not sure because I think it costs extra money to do those other things.

That’s probably fair.

I was fine not having a Swiss Army knife cell phone on my trip into the semi-wilderness, even though my cell phone wouldn’t work when I got into the semi-wilderness. Actually, I was happy when I found out that my cell phone didn’t work when I got into the semi-wilderness. That meant my wife couldn’t call me to remind me not to drink too much beer.

The only problem was that my wife knew that my brother-in-law, Tim, would also be in the semi-wilderness. Tim works in the cell-phone business. I’m not sure what it is exactly that Tim does; I just know that he always seems to have a cell phone that nobody else has yet.

Me: I probably won’t be able to call you because my phone won’t work in the semi-wilderness.

Wife: You can use Tim’s phone.

Me: %$#@.

Wife: And don’t drink too much beer.

So, last Thursday, we spent a peaceful day floating down the North Fork River. We floated past at least four of the natural springs that flow into the river. We took in the bluffs that border the river. We saw trout successfully avoid our fishing lines. We saw not one, but two eagles. One of them, a bald eagle, flew so low over our heads that we could hear the “whoosh” its wings made. We watched a blue heron fly toward us looking for food. It was a great day. A day to leave the outside world behind.

Then we got off the river, and the Swiss Army knife cell phones went to work. We had been back at the cabin for less than five minutes when my cousin yelled, “L.A. Times says Michael Jackson died!” Two minutes later, Tim’s cell phone made a noise. Tim pulled it out and looked at it for a second.

“Chris confirms Michael Jackson died,” he said.

A few minutes later, we turned the TV on to see when the Cardinals were playing (turns out they had already played and lost) when we saw the news about Farrah Fawcett. So much for the isolated semi-wilderness.

But no one told me about Mark Sanford. I knew that he had wandered off, of course, but I didn’t know until I got back home that he had wandered off to Argentina to hang out with his mistress. Who does this guy think he is? John Edwards? What is it about the Carolinas? I guess it must be the accent.

To be honest, I had never heard of Mark Sanford until he got famous for refusing to take any federal stimulus money. Turns out he had his own stimulus plan (rim shot).

Seriously, what was he thinking? Maybe this: “I’m the governor of South Carolina. Nobody will miss me for a few days.”

I’m not the governor of South Carolina, and I guarantee you that I couldn’t wander off to Argentina without somebody noticing. They might not care, but they would notice.

I wonder: When Mark Sanford was in Argentina, did he hear about Michael Jackson?

I bet he did.

He probably has one of those Swiss Army knife cell phones.

Text Only
Local News