The Qualm Before the Storm

Throughout the ages, things were named

Things did what things were intended to do

Sometimes same things had different names

Some people had couches in their living rooms

Others insisted they were davenports

Diehards argued for davinettes

They’d be davinettes, till the day they died

No matter–they were still the same things

Served the same purposes

Some didn’t like current names for things

They preferred different, new “thing” names

New names–for the same old things

Other than being confusing for those familiar

With the old names, things still did the same things

In spite of changes in their nomenclature

 

 

 

Silence!

There’s not much noisier in the natural world than Great Blue Heron rookeries during mating season.  Cars being crushed would compare nicely.

Kids, in their unbridled enthusiasm, were naturally noisy.  Parents generally tolerated outside noises, unless someone started crying.

At bedtime, it was a different story.  “Knock off that racket and go to bed.”  It was best not to press the issue with dad–because soon came the dreaded, “Don’t make me tell you again.”

And if kid noises weren’t enough, there were other ways to make noise.  Two blades of grass moistened with just enough spittle, would shriek when blown through.  Balloons, playing cards in bicycle spokes, weren’t loud enough.  Pieces of wire, metal against metal, made a terrific motorcycle-like cacophony.  Which resulted in loose spokes and wobbly wheels.

The cloud of doom hung over my head when my younger brother or sister ran into the house yowling about something I’d done.  Nothing else to do, but wait for punishment that always followed.

Pity gift givers that gave us drum sets, clickers, whistles, or noisemakers of any kind.  They were likely to be confiscated.  Parents just wanted some peace and quiet.  Was that too much to ask?

Midweek– Think, Sink, or Swim

What light through yonder window breaks?  Why, it’s our long-lost friend the sun.

It’s a good day for conclusion jumping, claim jumping, line jumping, leap frogging, frog jumping; any other kind of jumping–for those so inclined.  Makes me tired just thinking about it.

Beating the bushes for story ideas–at the same time, careful not to overlook the obvious.

Fingers didn’t move as fast as my mind worked.  That will never change.

Sometimes I feel like the guy that spoke several languages; didn’t understand any of them.

Technology changed the world–changed the way we do things.  Made the world seem smaller.  In spite of advances, human nature never changed.

There’s comfort to be found when things don’t change too drastically, too quickly.  I despise planned obsolescence, which seems to occur faster-and-faster.

I’m older, like to reminisce.  Only people of my generation can relate to the same experiences.  On some days, I feel like a twenty-year-old, trapped in a sixty-eight year old man’s body.  Other days the opposite is true.

In the old days, we didn’t apply superlatives to everything that happened.

What would happen if a termite were taped to a splinter to remove it?