So I just finished “Wild Men, Wild Alaska” by Rocky McElveen. It was a darn good read that kept my interest from start to finish. I was impressed by his ability to persevere through the most extreme challenge and setbacks. Even more, I admired his ability to forgive those who wronged him in a manner that would have bankrupted other mortals. Yet, I can’t quite give it 5 stars. Editorially, I have to fault Rocky for too many exclamation points and unneeded quotation marks. And while my gun toting bible thumping Protestant friends would disagree, there was more than a wee bit too much God. While I expected nothing less from a book with a foreword written by Franklin Graham, I too have had my brushes with death and Rocky and I differ in our survival attributions. For Rocky, in each and every close call: from boat wrecks, to plane crashes, to grizzly charges – Rocky attributes his survival to God’s will. Sometimes I agree. When in a romantic mood I give God credit for my survival – for he surely has big plans for my future. When philosophical, I believe I have used up all of my luck, and the next roll of the dice will be my last. When rational, I know that some men (or women) are lucky enough to cheat death a limited and walk away unscathed. The last roll of the dice has no bearing on the next throw – so fuck it – let’s roll em again.