The definition of cool

Dawn on the big ocean, father and son.
Photo by Annie Daly

Yesterday and today this blog has been found three times by people using the search words: "Why are Alaskans so cool?"  The first reaction was total ego. I read it to mean someone (or at least Google) thinks I am cool.  But reading again and giving it some thought, I realized someone out there thinks all Alaskans are cool and wants to know why.  That is a much better interpretation.  All Alaskans should take a little pride in that.
     I wonder what other blogs might have shown up with that search.  Well, there's a way to find out, and a search with those words shows this blog is seventh on the list.  Back to earth.  I only hope those looking to find out why weren't disappointed with what they found.
     The whole episode reminded me of an experience at sea.  Two years ago I ventured out onto the North Pacific Ocean on the brigantine Kai Sei to study plastic in the north Pacific gyre.  Most of the crew members were in their 20s.  Another fellow from Hawaii and I were at the other end of that scale, spooking 70. Coincidentally we both had sons aboard.
     All these young people were quite surprised to learn I liked Lady Gaga.  I could tell by their smiles they thought it was at best unusual and at worst, maybe a little strange.  Tough.  I made no pretense and a few of them recognized it as simply an appreciation of a person and her music.
     That said, one clear and sunny day I was at the helm steering the boat over waves not big, but larger than we had experienced so far.  It was that kind of joyous day where I plugged my iPhone into my ears and pretty soon I was rocking and rolling with the boat and singing louder than I thought and pretty much unaware of anything but the sea, the ship and Lady Gaga.
     After a time lost in the joy of sea and the music, I looked up to see people walking by with smirks on their faces, or laughing at this crazy old man rocking out singing Lady Gaga's "Bad Romance" at the helm of a 151-foot tall ship.
    The cook finally walked up to me, insisted I remove my earphones, and then said to me, "man, you are cool."  I remember feeling a little bit of a blush in my cheeks, being rather taken aback about that.  But I was on a roll.
     Being full of myself at the moment, I looked at him and with all the seriousness I could summon, I told him, "Adam, I am the definition of cool." 
     Fortunately he took it in the same sense it was given and we both had a good laugh over that.
     Because, you know what? The truth is, if you have to say it yourself, you probably aren't.