Risk Management Magazine

As I watched the chainsaw rip through my jeans, I was upset at the thought that I was going to have to buy another pair. I could see the jagged tear and realized that maybe, just maybe, I should check whether the blade cut into to my leg as well.

‘Twas the night before Christmas and at the Claus place, Ol’ Santa was angry and turning red in the face.

There I was on a chilly Friday evening in December, watching the weather segment on the local 6 o’clock news when Melvin, a teenage hunting and fishing buddy, called. He’d run into Wes, another mutual friend, and asked if I wanted to join them on a duck-hunting excursion.