Less Yakking, More Whacking…

During my brief year as an ex-pat in Taiwan, the small group of Americans I hung around embraced a saying. “Less Yakking, More Whacking.” I started it as a one-line review of the second Lord of the Rings movie.

In short, it meant the movie had more violence and fight scenes than the first one. Basically, a better picture if you were not a fantasy nerd and had no idea of the story outside of a movie you saw while stranded on an island where movies were your only English interaction.

The saying though quickly evolved into something more. It became a call to action: a rebel yell to stop sitting around and do something. The boys in Dead Poets Society had Thoreau; we had drunken bullshit.

Spotting a cute ex-pat across a bar, might not have the courage to talk to her. “Less Yakking, More Whacking.” And now you two are sharing a drink.

Can’t decide on some decision at the office, turn ideas, and possibilities over in your head for days. “Less Yakking, More Whacking.” A decision is made and you move forward, hopefully, for the betterment of your students.

A trip is possible, but it would mean spending most of the weekend on trains. “Less Yakking, More Whacking.” You see a sight you will never see again in your life and all you missed was a little TV you didn’t understand anyway.

Weren’t sure if you should order the dish at the restaurant or stick by the old standards. “Less Yakking, More Whacking.” OK, that backfired and you spend most of the next few days vomiting out every particle of food you had taken in for forty-eight hours.

I even heard a pastor put it into his sermon on how we should go out and evangelize to people, not just talking about proclaiming the Gospel but do it.

I took this statement back to the states and every now and then found myself saying it when I was uninspired to do research in graduate school, call a donor, or ask for a gift.

This weekend, I spent a long boring one in Barnes Jewish Hospital. First, let me say there were some great docs and nurses who took care of me. Some of the best fellows and residents I have seen in a long timework there. However, some of the main docs, who will remain nameless unless I somehow find myself in a slander suite, do a lot more yakking than whacking.

While I waited with held breath for over five days and four nights, all they did was really consult one another. When they released me on Monday, they were still waiting for another doc to be consulted. Being lightheaded is never fun, but even more so as the doc releases me from the hospital with occasional symptoms and say go back to a normal life.

A normal life without driving, living on my own, working or walking without nearly passing out every few minutes, this was truly the life I enjoyed prior to my surgery.