DUTTON
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Copyright 2014 by Nick Offerman
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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA
Offerman, Nick, 1970
Paddle your own canoe : one mans fundamentals for delicious living / Nick Offerman.
p. cm.
ISBN 978-0-698-13832-2 (EPUB)
1. Offerman, Nick, 1970- 2. ActorsUnited StatesBiography. 3. CarpentersUnited StatesBiography. 4. Conduct of life. I. Title.
PN2287.O275A3 2013
791.4502'8092dc23
[B]
2013023379
While the author has made every effort to provide accurate telephone numbers, Internet addresses, and other contact information at the time of publication, neither the publisher nor the author assumes any responsibility for errors or for changes that occur after publication. Further, the publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
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are the authors alone.
To Megan, my wife, cherry blossom, and legal property, who teaches me life every day.
And to her mother, Martha, who has taught us both beauty and humor. She also taught Megan class but got to me too late.
CONTENTS
A gentleman is someone who can play the accordion, but doesnt.
Tom Waits
FOREPLAY
I am a jackass living in America and living surprisingly well. Lets make that our jumping-off point. I come by it honest. I am your average meat, potatoes, and corn-fed human male, with a propensity for smart-assery, who has managed to make a rewarding vocation out of, essentially, making funny faces and falling down. I have also exhibited some tool skills and an inclination for eating delicious meatstuffs, and have then been somehow rewarded quite over-handsomely for these tendencies. I grew up literally in the middle of a cornfield in the village of Minooka, Illinois, where I spent a lot of time learning to use intoxicants, chasing girls, screwing around in the woods (mostly without the girls), and serving under Father Tony (unmolested) at our local Catholic church, St. Marys. I learned the word nonconformist in fourth grade and immediately announced that I would grow up to become one.
I have a hell of a great family in Illinois and now some more in Oklahoma via my wife, Megan. I have spent the vast majority of my adult life working as an actor and also, to a lesser extent, as a woodworker. Im going to run on at some length about the excellent people whom I have called friends, and some others whom I have had the privilege of calling teachers, and, while those parts are all well and good, there will also be some dirty parts, and I believe cunnilingus gets at least two mentions (favorable). On top of all that, and woven all throughout it, Ill describe my wife, who is just a goddamn blessing to me in a great many ways, enriching my life to such an extent that I can go nowhere anymore without passersby muttering, There goes that lucky bastard. I can only make a dimple and solemnly nod in agreement.
Each story comes with a delicious fundamentaladvice about living life that I hope youll find useful. Of course, my fundamentals may not work for everyone. A beautiful aspect of the human race is our endless variety. Like maple leaves and snowflakes, there are no two of us alike. Therefore, while my tactics involving the cultivation of lush facial hair and the consumption of pork products, as well as those derived from beef, may not be exactly the steps of the path you might tread on your own way to delicious living, perhaps my techniques will at least inspire you to forge your own discipline, providing you with the necessary skills to blaze your own trail.
Basically, this book boils down to how an average human dipshit like myself, relying solely on warped individuality and a little elbow grease, can actually rise from a simple life of relative poverty to one of prosperity, measured in American dollars and Italian band saws, sure, but more importantly, laughter, wood shavings, and kisses. The key lies in finding the delicious flavorings in ones life, no matter how fancy your blue jeans may or may not be. The notions herein are meant to inform, inspire, and engender mirth. Enjoy, please, and thank you.
1
Not-So-Little House on the Prairie
J esus, Mary, and Joseph. Where do I begin chapter 1? I suppose well do a chronological thing and start you off with some of the early years, a taste of the vintage stuff.
I showed up on Earth, in the tri-county area of Illinois, to be more precise, in 1970. This was, reportedly, the year Tom Waits showed up in LA to start pushing his demos around town. I havent had the chance to ask Tom if he was trying to send me a personal message of serendipity with his beautiful and haunting songs of the day like Grapefruit Moon and Midnight Lullaby, but it seems too crazy-on-the-nose to just be coincidence. Right?
Somewhere in the Arizona desert, Tom Laughlin was shooting the movie Billy Jack, and warlock-style wax albums were dropping all about the realm with names like Look-Ka Py Py; Black Sabbath; Sex Machine; Moondance; Bitches Brew; The Man Who Sold the World; After the Gold Rush; Free Your Mind... and Your Ass Will Follow; Kristofferson, for cryin out loud; Let It Be; and the most weirdly kabbalisticRandy Newmans 12 Songs. Potent magicks coalesced and fluctuated across the void, whilst strange nether-clouds swelled with great portent above the green crop fields, awaiting... what? Some child? A chosen man-cub?
Despite some loose popular misconceptions, I did NOT in fact drop from my mothers womb wielding a full moustache and a two-headed battle-axe. Nor was there sighted evidence of even the first follicle of the first hair of my chest bracken. Those laurels would come later.
The luckiest part of my very lucky life (pre-Megan) has been being raised by my family in the environment they created for the rearing of my siblings and me. My mom, Catherine Ann Offerman (ne Roberts), and my dad, Frederic Dames Offerman, grew up about three miles from each other in the middle of the countryside, outside of Minooka, Illinois. Where is that? Right next to Channahon, as I like to joke. (I told you this shit was gwine to be humorous.) Southwest of Joliet. My mom grew up in a family of four kids, born to Mike and Eloise Roberts, and they raised pigs, soybeans, and corn. My dad, born to Raymond Offerman and Marilyn Dames Offerman, grew up on a dairy farm with two siblings before moving into town as a teenager. They attended all the same Minooka schools that I eventually did, and married young. Dad was twenty-four and Mom was nineteen. Which seems batshit crazy to me these days.