Life is a series of risks, so tan ‘em if you got ‘em

the stairs while racing to answer our ringing phone.

So yeah. Risk. It’s a part of life. You can almost argue it’s THE part of life. We all try to mitigate it, but we all tempt it. You may smoke, I may drink. You may worship the sun, I may enjoy red meat. But everything is a risk. Very literally, getting out of bed each morning is a risk.

***** I’m often approached by business owners, asking me to write something about what they do. My rules for doing so are pretty simple: They’re doing something cool, different, or otherwise newsworthy for whatever reason, or I like their product.

Theresa Rossi, owner, along with her husband Rich, of The Tanning Zone (of Hamilton and Ewing), has Facebook messaged me a few times over the years, asking if I would be interested in writing something about their business. I never said “no,” but I also couldn’t really figure out an angle. A few weeks ago, it was a slow news day, so I took a drive to visit with Rich. It was a Monday, around 11 a.m. I was there for maybe 30 minutes. There was a steady stream of people coming in and out to get their daily dose of Vitamin D. Seriously: On a sleepy Monday morning, there were probably 15 customers in and out while I was there. A successful, well-run business to be sure. But then a bigger thought dawned on me: Risk. So many of us are quick to demonize tanning, but … well, why?

“There’s risks associated with everything,” said Rich. “Driving to work in the morning is a risk. Everything is risky, if you start looking at it like that.”

***** I love getting sun. If it’s warm outside, I’ll do whatever I can do to catch some rays, even if it’s just for a few minutes. Even in the dead of winter, if the sun is out, I’ll make a point to bundle up and stick my face toward ol’ sol to feel those sweet, sweet UV rays come pouring down.

As a result of this yearround sun worship, people will often ask something along the lines of, “where did you go?” when they see me. I have a pat answer for when people question my skin tone: “I’m a man of leisure,” I reply (which I would love to be the title of my autobiography).

No one ever questions my decision to have a healthy tan.

But I guarantee you if I told people I was going to a tanning salon, people would “tsk tsk” me and warn me of the dangers. For whatever reason, we associate “tanning bed” with a much higher risk factor then taking a vacation down the shore.

Of course, science says UV rays are dangerous. Skin cancer on the rise. We all hear this.

As a result, some of us decide to wear giant hats and SPF 500. Others (like myself) take care not to get sunburned and — thanks to my congenital neurosis — see a dermatologist twice a year to stay on top of any potential issues.

And others enjoy spending a few minutes in a tanning bed.

**** At some point over my lifetime we’ve gone from a “devil may care” attitude to something much different. Everything is bad for you. This will kill you. This will keep you alive. This is an elixir. This is poison. Dr. Oz said …

Well, it’s sucking the joy out of life. Can hardly enjoy a glass of wine anymore without wondering if it will lead to my early demise.

We’re all gonna die, that’s for sure. Might as well enjoy it while we can. Everything in moderation, I suppose, but for the most part, smoke ‘em if you got ‘em. Si fumos illos.

And if you like the feeling UV rays give you?

“Ultraviolet light is ultraviolet light,” Rossi said. “At least in here it’s controlled. If you fall asleep in here you’re not going to get burnt. The sun isn’t going to turn off, but a tanning bed will.”

See? Mitigating risks, right there.

***** One out of 17 of us, poofed out of existence through little or no fault of our own. It’s a sobering thought. It’s a freeing thought. It’s a thought I can never shake, good days or bad.

I’m typing this in my backyard, feeling the sun on my face.