Stumbling and bumbling through life
Well, it looks like fall has finally decided to come out of hiding. Maybe that change is responsible for what has happened to me over the past couple of weeks or so. Quite frankly, my daily life is pretty quiet and mundane, but out of nowhere, I started getting requests for public speaking events. Public speaking was something I used to do fairly frequently, but to say time has rusted out a fair amount of my brain cells is putting it mildly, as I stumbled through not one but two speaking engagements in a matter of days.
One of the many flaws I have is always saying “yes” to commitments like these before thinking things through. I reckon that’s OK, but being the slacker that I am, preparation is out of the question. So I just ramble on, stumbling and bumbling along like I had just downed an entire bottle of Mad Dog 20/20.
With that, my first slurring event was at the MUSC campus, where Al Stokes, the Waddell Mariculture Center’s previous director, and I teamed up to talk about our local waters. Al took on the science behind what makes our waters so special with a really cool slide presentation, while I talked about fishing around here. Imagine that. With pretty much a full house and lots of interaction with those who attended, it was really enjoyable. Thank the Lord above for Al being there because, being way smarter than me, he saved me from hooking myself in the head while demonstrating something like the perfect cast.
On to “sure, I’ll do it No. 2.”
Now, this one really had me b’dazzled because, for once, I actually tried to do some prep work. Held at the Coastal Discovery Museum at Honey Horn Plantation on Hilton Head, my plan was to talk, or maybe even lie, about what it was like growing up on Hilton Head, particularly in the early days after our family moved there in 1960.
Sitting down at my computer, I wrote down bullet points in a somewhat chronological order so I wouldn’t stagger through this presentation. Just hours before I was to arrive, I went to print out my talking points when my printer bit the dust. Oh great, just great. So instead of neatly printed pages, I walked in with scraps of paper and sticky notes that magically all decided to stick together.
Thinking there might be a handful of people to listen to my ramblings, I was surprised when the entire room filled up. To make this scene complete, I learned that my talk was going to be filmed and kept for all time as part of Hilton Head’s historical record.
OMG, if folks who attended the event wondered at all if I was a fruitcake or not, they sure know now! I love telling people about the good old days and the unique childhood I experienced, but I was all over the place. I swear I heard whispers like “Is he OK?” or “There sure are a bunch of splinters in that boy’s windmill.”
I swear I tried, but had a judge been there, he would have pounded his gavel and yelled “Out of order!” numerous times.
There was no order. One second, I would be telling tales about a seventh-grade classwide science project where each student was given a petri dish and told to touch the gel in the dish to see if mold would grow when the dishes were checked a week later.
When that time came and the dishes came out, every dish had a touch of mold except one, mine. Having sucked on a lollipop just before the class when we were to touch the gel, the lid on my petri dish had popped off, with mold that was a good 6 inches high.
Needless to say, at this fragile entrance into puberty, girls would steer way clear of that dirty Collins Doughtie.
If I remember correctly, my middle school escapade was closely followed by one of the attendees asking me to talk about Operation Jack Pot, when a fair number of well-known islanders ended up in the pokey for pot smuggling.
See what I mean? There was absolutely no order to my talk. I can only imagine that after I am dead and gone, a husband and wife will watch my hourlong psychotic historical rant and, upon its ending, agree that genetics sure must have been messed up back then.
Hey, they might just be right!
Collins Doughtie is a 60-year resident of the Lowcountry, a sportsman, graphic artist and lover of nature. collinsdoughtie@icloud.com.
Editor’s note: I had the pleasure of attending Collins’ sold-out talk at the Coastal Discovery Museum and it was thoroughly engaging, entertaining and educational. If you ever have the opportunity to hear Collins speak, I highly recommend you take it.
