Crikey, he's gone!

This is very off-topic, as it has nothing to do with the Bluegrass, but I wanted to acknowledge the passing of a cultural icon: Steve Irwin, aka The Crocodile Hunter. On second thought, I guess there is a tie to home: several years ago, my husband and I went to a Halloween party dressed as Irwin and his wife. I got a fake ponytail, wore a campshirt and hiking shorts and boots, and he parted his hair down the middle and dressed accordingly. He didn't look much like Irwin, but he nailed the accent and wrestled a fake snake wrapped around his neck. He got big laughs out of the WSAZ cohort (he was a reporter at the NBC affiliate at the time).

Giggles aside, it's quite interesting that the untimely but not unexpected passing of this over-the-top showman became a point of focus for the Australian parliament, and that there has been talk of honoring him with a state funeral--a rite normally reserved for heads of state. Outlandish as he seemed--and that's why we watched--the Aussie certainly brought new attention to the adventurous spirit of his homeland.

I think we can at least take one lesson from Irwin: life's an adventure. That means taking risks sometimes. I still don't like spiders, and I'm not ready to make friends with alligators anytime soon, but it's a nice to think about embracing life with similar gusto.

Now...where did I put those hiking boots?