My Back Pages?

Leaping from tree to tree!
As they float down the mighty rivers of British Columbia!
With my best girl by my side!
The Larch!
The Pine!
The Giant Redwood tree!
The Sequoia!
The Little Whopping Rule Tree!
We’d sing! Sing! Sing!

Oh, I’m a lumberjack, and I’m okay,
I sleep all night and I work all day….

Sorry… sometimes I get carried away. Let me just get to the details:

Ok, I’m going to make a few edits to this for the first time in at least six years.

My favorite dark chocolate: too expensive for me to buy. Or, too expensive for me to buy regularly. Or maybe I’m just cheap. Yeah, still true.
My favorite backpacking amenity: either the nylon hammocks or a leather-wrapped flask (filled, of course). But I also like my trusty little Grundig radio. Then again, having someone to carry my pack wouldn’t be bad. But I haven’t done this since just before the pandemic; instead of a tent in the woods, though, I’ve got a small cabin. And an account at REI.
If you want to play racquetball with me: are you good? I mean actually good?
Pickleball can be competitive too if you get into it.
Can I roast a pigeon? Tastes great and less filling; but they’re not cheap around here. 
And dessert? O.K., I can bake, too.
If they’d never filmed “Apocalypse Now”: my favorite film would be an old Czech anti-Nazi film, “The Cremator.” Well, maybe the British anti-Thatcher “Brassed Off,” or just “Mary Poppins.” I saw Chalamet play Dylan twice when that one came out.
Why I speak German: weil ich dort lange gewohnt habe. (I lived there a long time. Maybe too long.)
My favorite poem: is still “The Cremation of Sam McGee.” You’d think I’d be a little past that by now. (You know it: “Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee, where the cotton blooms and blows. Why he left his home in the South to roam ’round the Pole, God only knows….”) But unlike a lot of other guys who once memorized that poem, I actually met a fellow named Sam McGee (oddly enough, in a town on the southern coast of Crete). He was from Pennsylvania. “There are strange things done in the midnight sun by the men who moil for gold….”
The best circus I ever saw: the Moscow State Circus (with Oleg Popov, clown); one ring in a big tent. I’ve never wanted to run off and join a circus, at least no more than a fleeting thought (I had a neighbor in college who did), but the good ones were a lesson in culture; now it’s all a lesson in corporations.
If Bob Dylan had never made music: Oh no, there’d be so much missing, so many who wouldn’t have done what they did. Unimaginable. I’d probably know a bunch of hymns, Irish ballads, maybe I’d even understand why Mendelssohn’s 3rd sounds Scottish. Call me a Dead head too if you want. Mostly I dig Americana, and public DJ-curated radio (not corporate, no algorithms, listener-supported).
My two favorite sayings: “the plural of anecdote is not data” and well, I don’t think I have a clear second any more. But in class I teach the so-called “Thomas theorem”: “If people perceive situations as real, they are real in their consequences.” (So-called, because they left off his co-author with the name that’s harder to pronounce: Znaniecki; I guess I have a soft spot for hard-to-pronounce names. It’s real in its consequences.)
Why I brew my own beer: Well, I haven’t done that in 15 years, but I was into it at the time. I once made wine, too.
I’m writing this all here because… I’m a very private person. For all I know, this might be a pack of lies. Yes, that’s true.

Oh, but wait… there, on one of the mighty rivers of British Columbia, I’d know the backs of those hands like the backs of my hands…

And who’s that behind the cue ball?