I’ve accomplished things in my life. I’ve failed to accomplish many other things in that same amount of time.

I could give you a laundry list of the things I have and have not completed. I would probably be embarrassed to admit to most of it. The talent of completion is something I’ve yet to master. In fact, if I accomplish ANYTHING in this life, I hope that it will be the ability to see something completed from beginning to end.

Let’s take a pretty benign example. We have a hot tub. The hot tub was purchased in 2006, when my life was completely different. I lived at my old house, in my first marriage. It took me some time to get the electrical for the hot tub ready, but fortunately for me, I had time between ordering the thing and having it installed. I got the wiring done just in time to have it hooked up, filled and doused with chemicals, then ready to use.

Life moved on. After my marriage went south and my ex-wife moved out, I didn’t have as many visitors over to use the tub. I didn’t have much reason to clean it as much or put in chemicals. It happened less frequently, even some time later when I had Jill to help. When we were selling the old house, there didn’t seem to be much reason to maintain it, knowing we were going to move it.

And then, we moved. I mounted a brace on the heavy side, so we could store it vertically (as hot tubs often are stored) after moving it. It ended up sitting in the car port at the rental house. And then it ended up sitting vertical in the car port of the new house.

For six months I contemplated where to put it, and how to get it there. After deciding to put it next to the shed on a concrete pad that was already there (hidden by the fence shared with the Naked Neighbors, so they can’t see ME in all MY glory), I thought about how to move it, as well as when.  I’d figured I would need to have a gathering of people to move it.  We had a decent chance of moving it when people cam over for Jill’s birthday in May, but decided not to do it then.  After that, I needed another good gathering of people (without using the tub as an excuse to get together).  Given my track record of getting people to come visit and/or come over for a BBQ or party, it was going to be a while.

Using braces on the frame, I was initially going to use 2x4s to hoist it up like a Sultan in a caravan through the yard.  I figured it would take at least four people (given my experiences with moving this thing in the past).  After getting some braces at Home Depot, I discovered that idea wasn’t going to work with the framing on the underside of the tub.

Then, I decided to mount large wheels to the underside of the frame.  I bought four 10″ all-terrain swivel-caster wheels through Harbor Freight.  But my foot has impeded my ability to do things like cut plywood sections, mount huge casters to them, then mount them to a hot tub sitting on it’s side.

And then, my never-seen brother-in-law was in town.  We planned a BBQ for him and his friends while we was here.  A couple days before the BBQ, I’d thought that having a bunch of men over for food was a good time to move the thing, but didn’t think to say anything until my brother-in-law asked about the hot tub sitting out there.  He even suggested we could move it on the day of the get-together.  How could be not, then?

Of course, by that day I hadn’t mounted the wheels, but we brought up moving it anyway.  After the initial claims of the true nature of the BBQ, my father-in-law, brother-in-law, and about five other men all started looking at the tub.  I suggested how I had thought to move it.  They lowered it, set 2x4s under it, and started to position it.  While my father-in-law and I went to look at the wheels, the rest of the guys practically picked up the tub and walked it across the lawn to the concrete slab.  It was that easy - with five men.

And now, the tub will sit.  I have to wait until I have some money to buy the wire to power the hot tub (it takes 220 volts of electricity), and my foot to heal in order to wire it up.  It could be a while.  In addition to the reasons for me not to finish the hot tub, there will naturally be the procrastination that has plagued my life for many years.

And this is where this story comes back into focus.  This is one of many things that I’ve dealt with over the years.  A lot of it could be have been completed in short time when the situations first came up.  Instead, it’s dragged on for months at a time, turning into years.

And what have I learned from procrastination?  Nothing.  I’m in my mid-30s, wishing I’d finished a lot of the stuff I’d set out to do in my 20s.  Some of it normal, most of it not.

Studying for this ham radio exam, which is on July 21st, has been another indication of something I started but never completed.  15 years ago, I meant to learn more about the hobby.  I started in it, got my feet wet, and stopped when the wind changed.  What I’m doing now could have been done 15 years ago.  In fact, I used to listen to AUDIO CASSETTE versions of what I’m studying now.  I was attending Barton College in North Carolina, and instead of playing Duke Nukem 3D with my dorm-mates, I was sitting in my car listening to morse code and electrical theory on now-obsolete audio tapes, wanting to do more.  I can’t help but wonder, if I had mastered amateur radio in the mid-90s, would I have finished my degree, discovered something new and more complex, or completed at least one more thing in my life?

So, this exam isn’t about progressing to the next level in amateur radio.  In fact, I don’t have the equipment (or money to buy equipment) needed to use all of what passing this exam will allow me to do.  No, this exam isn’t about talking to some person in England or Alaska over radio - it’s about finishing something I started 15 years ago.  It’s about completion.  And it’s about hoping for a trend.  It’s about moving on.  It’s about inspiring myself to be more, do more, and accomplish more.

In it’s own way, this is all about the entire topic of this blog - to find a new Eric.  To find me.

I WILL succeed.  Spending the summer at home has taught me that I should have been the one in charge of my own life all this time.  Not my foot.  Not my job.

Me.  The New Eric.

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