THE RISK TAKER

Yesterday, a friend, who had recently read my book, called me a "risk-taker."  I thought about that label for about half a minute and knew he was spot-on. Immediately, I began to recall my solo trips to large cities when I was much younger and as clueless about my safety as I am now. The streets of Manhattan were well-known to me in my 30's and 40's. It wasn't unusual to enjoy a late dinner with colleagues and walk ten blocks or so to my hotel––by myself. For over a decade, there were cities all over this country and Europe where I would behave similarly, but I was young and foolish.

I continue to be a risk-taker.

Recently, I organized a march for gun reform in the town of Llano. Llano is the deer hunting capital of the world. Gun lovers hate liberals because they fear we're out to take away their guns. Heaven-forbid if bump stocks are ripped away from the cold hands of the average hunter. After all, they are a must for killing deer, especially if you're in a hurry to destroy the herd. Anyway, I fully realized it was taking a chance to be marching through the streets of Llano demanding gun reform. During the march, it was apparent that most people agreed with us, even in a small town with guns hanging on the back windows of numerous pick-ups. Sometimes, you have to take a risk for something greater than yourself. I'll probably take my last breath, falling on some kind of sword.

You would think I stopped walking by myself after dark at this stage in my long life, but oh, that is not true. Last week, I was in Fort Worth, attending the Texas Democratic Party State Convention with over 7500 like-minded souls. Initially, I planned to share a room with one friend, but it would mean I'd have to stay two extra nights. I didn't want to be away from my dog that long. Then, I agreed to share a room with two other female friends. When I realized I'd lost a lot of sleep while afraid that my snoring was keeping them awake, I decided to find another hotel. The hotel I selected was located on the other side of downtown, over a mile away. My snoring, indeed wouldn't bother them from a mile out.

The two nights I stayed in Fort Worth involved late-night dinners in the downtown area. After promising my friends both nights after dinner to call Uber, I stubbornly decided to go the cheap route and walk back to my hotel. Besides, what I heard and felt at the convention made me hopeful for our country's future for the first time in many months. I was on a high from the sheer pleasure of it all, so off I went into the good night. The last few blocks were dicey, but I made it without incident, knowing this old lady could be an easy target for criminal activity.

I can be fearless at the most inappropriate times.

I moved to South Florida 14 years ago to open a new physical rehabilitation hospital. During weekends, I liked to explore hiking trails in the area.  One of my first forays was to the Loxahatchee National Wildlife Refuge. It's an expansive sanctuary for wildlife in a swampy wilderness. It has successfully reclaimed the northern portion of the Everglades. It's an incredible place I have visited many times over the years.

I noticed no cars in the parking lot, but I thought nothing of it as I followed the narrow dirt path through the refuge. Swampland bordered the trail. Turning the first corner, I saw an alligator sunning himself alongside the water. I continued walking on the path and passed him within a few feet. He never moved, so I figured that's how they rolled.

A few weeks later, my daughter came for a visit. I wanted to share Loxahatchee with her, so off we went on the same trail I had taken earlier. Another alligator was out of the water, not moving, and would be on the same path we were heading. My daughter refused to go further, even though I kept pleading with her and trying to assure her that we would be fine. Her intelligence and instinct likely saved our lives.

You might be asking yourself how I missed that alligators are dangerous. After all, hadn't I watched Animal Planet? As a matter of fact, I don't. I can't bear to see animals killing each other. And besides, like most people, I filter out unpleasantness until it smacks me in the face.

It wasn't long during my first time in Florida before hearing about alligators attacking people. The theory is that if you have a barking dog, they become bait for the alligator, and you become the more substantial meal. Sometimes, alligators snatch people when they are sitting on the bank of a canal. One man was retrieving a golf ball that had landed in a pond on the golf course. Alligators turn over and over in the water with the body of an animal or human in their mouths, drowning them before chomping down, piece by piece. It was a brutal ending to the man's life. 

I never got near an alligator after hearing about the murderous creatures.

I'm going to stop being a risk-taker. I promise.