Sunday, May 14, 2017

The Not a Christmas Letters, Part 3

This is the third entry in the Not a Christmas Letters series, published to family and friends.

Preface


It has been inferred by some, from the title of previous missives, that I do not celebrate Christmas.  That is incorrect – I do – after all, if it’s capable of coming without presents, tags, boxes, or bags, what choice do I have, really?  I just don’t write a Christmas letter.


ROBERT PIRSIG IS NOT DEAD

I’m standing in line at a Kinko’s at 11 p.m. on a Wednesday, holding in my hand a printed sheet for them to perform their arcane magic on it and turn it into an overhead.  Of course, it is not my sheet of paper – it is Rowan’s.  So why am I standing here while she is sleeping peacefully at home?  Because Robert Pirsig is not dead, and it’s all my fault.

This started sometime the previous week, when I noticed Rowan writing a brief report on Robert Pirsig on the computer.  “Hey” I said “Don’t forget to mention that he died last week – I heard it on NPR the other day.”  I think I also mentioned that the bio she was using as a basis for the report seemed to seriously downplay the extent of the mental health issues that serve as a precursor to Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance or something.

Fast forward a week – Jan has obtained the overheads and there is a final fact check in progress.  Funny thing – none of the online sources seem to show a date of death for the fabulous Mr. Pirsig, and his death has not been reported in any online news sources. Hmmm…..  Immediately the accusations and recriminations begin.

“You told me he was dead!”
“Well, I thought I heard it on the radio – can’t you just mark through the year of his death or something?”
“No – I’ll get points off for neatness!”
“Okay, print the change and I’ll have a new overhead by morning.”

I am no longer a credible source in my own house.  I blame the liberal media.  I think Robert Pirsig should come in for a share of the blame, too.




THE ERA OF MAKEUP

This year we entered the era of makeup.  The hard part about makeup is not the actual application of the stuff, but the protracted negotiation regarding what is appropriate and what is not, what is okay to wear to school vs. on stage vs. to a large party thrown in a warehouse in a remote part of town…

“How about fire-engine red lipstick?”
“I’m sorry, did you say clear lipgloss?”
“Tinted lipgloss?”
“Done”

And so on through the basic ingredients.

This all started one ordinary evening - I’m walking past the study and the Daughter is on a chair.  The question is posed to me “How does this look?”

After sufficient contemplation, I set forth a brilliant critical analysis – “Well, the liner is a little wavy, but I like the brown, and you could maybe use a little more eye shadow.”

I then walk upstairs, leaving the Daughter in puzzled silence.  The wife walks up behind me and whispers “She’s asking you if it’s okay for school.”

Oh.
Crap.  I’m never going to get this.


THE CALL WENT OUT


From up by the blackboard, out toward the desks, burning into the brain of every 7th grade Algebra student.

“Doo doo de doo doo”

and again, low and insistent..

“De doo doo doo”

a stream of melody emanating from the teacher, almost unknowable, intense and primal -

“Doo doo de doo doo”
“De doo doo doo”

and one lone voice, echoing back…

“Mahna mahna”

I’m so proud of her.

 

MAN vs. HIS ENVIRONMENT


In 2006, Connor pulled off one of the greatest feats heretofore known to man.  Sometimes hours of research and logistical analysis can pay off – well, at least theoretically – around here, we usually just wing it.

“Okay – wait for it, wait for it, wait for it…”
“Now?”
“Wait…OK GO!”

And with that, he was off – feet pumping, face belying the effort and concentration necessary for such an attempt.   Up, up, up, past a rather bewildered couple who shouldn’t have been a factor if I had timed the attempt better…a few feet more, a few feet more…GREAT SUCCESS!!!

He made it up the down escalator at Barnes and Noble.  Needless to say, we go to Borders a bit more these days.

This year, he and a few compatriots made it up the Pipeline at a YMCA camp which will remain nameless.  I cannot comment further on the circumstances of this attempt, because, well, I like going there.

The women reading this will wonder why he did it.  I could probably launch into an extended justification involving biological drives, competitiveness, and the inherent struggle of man vs. his environment, but the truth is that boys are just weird.

I recommend that you keep your daughters away from them.


THREE POLICE CARS, A FIRE TRUCK, AND AN AMBULANCE


From time to time, I hear accounts of non-responsiveness of emergency services.  An earnest news anchor is interviewing someone who is angry that the police failed to respond quickly enough to his reports of alien abduction, or a Bigfoot sighting or something.  I used to listen with a sympathetic ear and shake my head at the dilatory habits of the responders.  No more though.  Why?  Because the list of emergency vehicles above is an exhaustive, wholly-inclusive list of the response to a Bobcat stuck in the ditch behind my house.


Picture it – the Bobcat heads back to the safety of its trailer for a well-deserved rest after digging a really, really big hole.  Going across the ditch, a tread parts company with the drive wheel.  For a Bobcat, this is basically the equivalent of catching your spike heel in a crack and breaking it clean off.

Soon traffic starts backing up.  Then the emergency vehicles start arriving.  All for a Bobcat with a slipped tread.

I’m starting to wonder what would happen if there was an actual emergency around here.

“Hello, 911? I heard a strange noise outside my house.”
“Sir, don’t worry about a thing – can you hold?”
“Uhh – I guess…” (da da da da da da da, da da da da DA da da da da da)
“Sir – thanks for holding – we’ve called in an airstrike.”
“WHAT?!”


APPARENTLY, I ROCK


And what did I do to deserve this distinction?  Did I nail a great riff?  Accomplish some great feat of athleticism? Get a verdict in my client’s favor?

Nope – I cut the head off a squirrel.

A family friend has a daughter in the 9th grade.  Apparently a key part of the 9th grade curriculum is to gather all manner of flora and fauna, get all Linnaeus on them, and turn it in.  Most people end up with a lot of different weeds and maybe a ladybug or something.  While the friend was over to pick up a nettle or thistle or something, Jan offered one of the cats’ recent trophies – an ex-mouse.  But wait – since the cats hunt competitively with each other, there was something even better on the back porch – an ex-squirrel!

I should point that that turning entire dead animals is frowned upon – but turning in just a skull is dandy.  When Jan and her friend next saw me in the garage, I was attempting to remove the head from a dead squirrel with a pair of hedge clippers.  Squirrel heads are surprising well-attached.  I supposed I shouldn’t have been quite as surprised as I was, seeing as I’ve never actually seen one detach by accident.  Anyway, I did finally succeed in removing the head, and wrapped it attractively in a flowered sock and sandwich baggie for transport.  The daughter later got a text message saying “Your Dad Rocks!”  My contribution to secondary education for the year, thank you.

Rock on,

Jerry 

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