If there is one thing I discovered by going to my high school reunion it is that if a person was a jerk 35 years ago, the chances are excellent that they are still a jerk, no matter what the occasion or situation. That doesn’t take a lot of insight, but sometimes you might feel that people can mellow a bit with age. I found that wasn’t the case. What I did find was that my sense of recognition of people wasn’t hampered at all with age. The names and faces came to me easily, as did the forgotten stories of some of the dumber things I had done in my youth. I know, I know, that list seems to get longer and longer. Another thing that occurred to me after chatting with a number of my classmates and other graduating classes was that if a meteor streaked out of the sky and slammed into the dinner tent we were congregated in, half the international bankers of Canadian origin would perish. That and a corresponding number of dark blue suits.
I had worried that I might end up staring at a person as they were greeting me as a long lost friend (which I guess I was) and having zero recall of who this person was. Fortunately there were still some synaptic snaps left in my brain to put A and B together. I was able to navigate below the age lines, receding hair and expanding waistlines to positively identify all my classmates who made it. I am not sure if I have changed a great deal, besides the aforementioned physical changes everyone goes through, but there were some cryptic looks at me until a light seemed to go on in their minds. Maybe all my white hair just threw them or maybe it was because I am not the waifish 110 pounds that I once was.
Physical changes were not to only thing to have been affected over the years. My somewhat encyclopedic memory of music, books and other apparently worthless information has now taken on more of a thesaurus-like memory. No longer do the facts spill out in a constant stream of positive invectives. Now it seems I can’t quite lay my finger on the definitive facts, but more on the related, similar facts.
The other day I was sitting in a doctors’ office reading one of his current Time magazine issues from the late 1970’s and heard a song on the radio. Normally I would have known the song, the artist and at least some obscure fact. The tune was from a particular era of music that I didn’t really like. It wasn’t disco, but it wasn’t much better. It was of the big hair era of the early 1980’s. I recognized the song right away, “Hold Me Now” and remarked to myself that I hadn’t heard that song in a long time. Fortunately, I replied. “I wonder what ever happened to that band? And that band was….”. This is when the thesaurus and not the encyclopedia kicked in. My mind went through the most immediate of options, the band was sort of like Spandau Ballet… maybe more like Tears for Fears? a-ha, do you think? I looked over at my wife who was waiting with me and asked her if she remembered the name of the band who was singing that song. She looked at me in a way that only wives can and said, “We are in a doctors’ office… for matters regarding our health…. and you are wondering about the name of a band of a song you don’t really like?” She does have a way with succinctness.
Instead of dwelling on health matters, I wracked my brain trying to remember. I tried all of the mnemonic tricks that I could think of, well at least the ones I could remember. I visualized the band in my minds eye, hair sticking up about a mile from the top of their heads, the chorus kept running over and over again through my mind, but yet the name just wasn’t coming to me. It was only on our way home that it hit me. Out of nowhere, like a fog lifting, curtains parting, a bolt of lightning igniting the awareness in my cortex…. The Thompson Twins! Of course the Thompson Twins, how could I not remember them? They of really big hair, a trio named after the detectives Thomson and Thompson in the comic, “Adventures of Tintin”. It was only after I reveled in the satisfaction of finally remembering that I could settle into any sort of smugness. This trivia stuff can be hard work.
There really doesn’t seem to be a cure for this degradation of my memory, well there is, but that option is rather final and I have been trying to make death not a reasonable alternative. It hasn’t really affected my life in anyway, I mean it is not as though I have ever made a lot of money or had a career out of knowing stuff that most normal people don’t really commit a lot of time to. I guess perhaps I could look on the bright side of things, even though my memory has slipped from encyclopedic to thesaurus-like at least I haven’t reached the third grade primer… yet.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Life Lessons - Mouth Editor
Life could be described as a series of lessons. Things that you can learn from and hopefully evolve into a wiser, more rounded person. Sometimes these lessons enhance your life and sometimes they are there just to smack you upside the head. Most of the smacks that I have experienced, have happened to me because I don't have a personal editor with me 24/7. In writing I have days, even weeks to think through what I will write. If my judgment is slightly off or if I may be misunderstood, I usually do a few revisions before other people read what I write and then after careful and thoughtful consideration, I can then safely make a fool of myself.
When I was younger, I was known for being painfully shy. Most children are naturally a little shy and will peek out from behind their Mommy after a little prodding, but me? I would have preferred to stay hidden all of time. The more that people noticed my shyness and blushing, the more intense and uncomfortable it became. Being blonde and fair-skinned, didn't help either. Sometimes, the idea of falling into an endless hole in the ground was more appealing than raising my eyes. Part and parcel of this, was my quietness. There were many reasons why I didn't vocalize very much. First and foremost, I was the youngest of five kids and never really given an opportunity to speak. But more importantly, I didn't think other people would really understand what I was thinking. To me, a lot of it was really funny stuff and that is when I first became aware of editing what you say. Many times, in hind-sight, you really may have wished that the mouth editing control button was permanently turned on. Sometimes odd thoughts sneak out and people look at you a little strange. But for the most part, I kept silent and laughed internally. It was only later in life, that I found center stage wasn't so bad after all.
A short time ago, I was walking home from work, just enjoying the nice weather. Our neighborhood has more than its' share of dogs, but we rarely, if ever, have a problem with dogs running wild. They are usually escorted on a leash by their owners. In their hands, they carry the required small plastic bags to clean up after their animals. That day, there was a parade of dogs and owners walking up the sidewalk. In the midst of this, came a woman, pushing a wheel barrow with a large orange plastic yard bag and a shovel in it. The first thing that flashed through my mind was, "God, I would hate to see your dog!" Fortunately, the mouth editor stopped me before I said anything, but I did have a huge smile on my face and just mumbled something about fine weather as I passed her.
Just the other week, my family and I were walking downtown to do a little shopping. We passed many people that were looking for handouts, a few playing guitars and singing, some of them were quite good. But, the one that was most memorable was far from even remotely good. She stood on the corner randomly strumming her guitar and sang in a voice that sounded like someone gave strychnine to a cat. I felt compelled to pay her to stop that tortured wailing. But before I did another guy walked up to and her and must have asked her to stop because her intensity grew even louder and more (if possible) maniacal. It was at that point I wished that other guy would have exercised some self editing. It took us almost a block to get out of the range of hearing. It took me that long to realize that she was singing, "Rocky Mountain High".
I have always had a tendency, some say more of an irritation, to attempt to correct a word or phrase that someone used incorrectly. An example of this was, for years my wife used the word "bought" instead of "brought". It was only a small thing but I thought if I have to spend eternity with her if I didn't do something it could drive me crazy. So time and again I corrected her hoping that the change would eventually take hold. After a few years, it finally did. But curiosity did get the best of me and I asked her where she picked up such a bad habit. Turns out, she picked it up from her Dad. This is where I learned a life lesson. I said "Just because your Dad said it, that doesn't mean that it is right". After picking myself up off the ground and checking for any open wounds, I realized maybe I should keep my thoughts for the most part right where I can keep my eye on them. Locked firmly in my brain.
So what are the life lessons learned? Well, "let a sleeping dog lie" or, "when confronted by the banshee woman, don't make it worse than it already is", kind of pops to mind. "Discretion is the better part of valor", is another. It is sometimes better to keep your funny thoughts to yourself because no one is as funny as you are to yourself. But most importantly, never, but never, use the words "your Dad" and "wrong" in the same sentence.
When I was younger, I was known for being painfully shy. Most children are naturally a little shy and will peek out from behind their Mommy after a little prodding, but me? I would have preferred to stay hidden all of time. The more that people noticed my shyness and blushing, the more intense and uncomfortable it became. Being blonde and fair-skinned, didn't help either. Sometimes, the idea of falling into an endless hole in the ground was more appealing than raising my eyes. Part and parcel of this, was my quietness. There were many reasons why I didn't vocalize very much. First and foremost, I was the youngest of five kids and never really given an opportunity to speak. But more importantly, I didn't think other people would really understand what I was thinking. To me, a lot of it was really funny stuff and that is when I first became aware of editing what you say. Many times, in hind-sight, you really may have wished that the mouth editing control button was permanently turned on. Sometimes odd thoughts sneak out and people look at you a little strange. But for the most part, I kept silent and laughed internally. It was only later in life, that I found center stage wasn't so bad after all.
A short time ago, I was walking home from work, just enjoying the nice weather. Our neighborhood has more than its' share of dogs, but we rarely, if ever, have a problem with dogs running wild. They are usually escorted on a leash by their owners. In their hands, they carry the required small plastic bags to clean up after their animals. That day, there was a parade of dogs and owners walking up the sidewalk. In the midst of this, came a woman, pushing a wheel barrow with a large orange plastic yard bag and a shovel in it. The first thing that flashed through my mind was, "God, I would hate to see your dog!" Fortunately, the mouth editor stopped me before I said anything, but I did have a huge smile on my face and just mumbled something about fine weather as I passed her.
Just the other week, my family and I were walking downtown to do a little shopping. We passed many people that were looking for handouts, a few playing guitars and singing, some of them were quite good. But, the one that was most memorable was far from even remotely good. She stood on the corner randomly strumming her guitar and sang in a voice that sounded like someone gave strychnine to a cat. I felt compelled to pay her to stop that tortured wailing. But before I did another guy walked up to and her and must have asked her to stop because her intensity grew even louder and more (if possible) maniacal. It was at that point I wished that other guy would have exercised some self editing. It took us almost a block to get out of the range of hearing. It took me that long to realize that she was singing, "Rocky Mountain High".
I have always had a tendency, some say more of an irritation, to attempt to correct a word or phrase that someone used incorrectly. An example of this was, for years my wife used the word "bought" instead of "brought". It was only a small thing but I thought if I have to spend eternity with her if I didn't do something it could drive me crazy. So time and again I corrected her hoping that the change would eventually take hold. After a few years, it finally did. But curiosity did get the best of me and I asked her where she picked up such a bad habit. Turns out, she picked it up from her Dad. This is where I learned a life lesson. I said "Just because your Dad said it, that doesn't mean that it is right". After picking myself up off the ground and checking for any open wounds, I realized maybe I should keep my thoughts for the most part right where I can keep my eye on them. Locked firmly in my brain.
So what are the life lessons learned? Well, "let a sleeping dog lie" or, "when confronted by the banshee woman, don't make it worse than it already is", kind of pops to mind. "Discretion is the better part of valor", is another. It is sometimes better to keep your funny thoughts to yourself because no one is as funny as you are to yourself. But most importantly, never, but never, use the words "your Dad" and "wrong" in the same sentence.
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