A Year From Now - Mayan Prophecies, Solar Flares and Little Old Me
Posted: Monday, January 02, 2012
by Christofer French
Rain Dancer Associates, LLC
There I was “scrumpling” my hair. Reading about the Mayan Prophecies, the upcoming Solar Flares that are supposed to be cyclically blazing this year. All kinds of weather possibilities, even the world turning on its poles. It was getting depressing.
My wife knows this as a sign that I am wrestling with something. She put her hand on my gray curly mass and laughed. She moved through my office and I sat huddled staring into my screen.
“I already know the world isn’t going to end this year, and I have read up on two secret cycles regarding the Presidential election; but damn if I don’t know how I am going to be any different by the end of the year.”
“That’s easy”. Her bell-like vocal tone came from her office. “You’re not going to change a lick in so many ways” A cute little giggle made its way down the hall.
“You mean stop pretending and just tell the truth?” My voice was hoarse and filled with incredulity.
She came down the hall and stood directly in front of my computer.
“Yes. Stop pretending and just tell the truth.”
I was sheepish. It’s not really dignified to be as undignified as I am for real!
“I will help you.” She folded her arms like a Teacher.
You’re a Pansy
“Tell everyone how you can’t stop your Chihuahua from French kissing you!”
“OK”
My wife says I’m a Pansy because I can’t figure out how to train our cute as Tinkerbelle Chihuahua from sticking its nose and giving me some sugar right on my lips. She hates it. I laugh. But then, truth be told, I don’t really like it. And when my daughter comes to my house, the oldest one with a son who is a lineman, and used to expressing her will to big guys; she doesn’t like it either. So with so great a cloud of incentives, I still can’t figure out how to train that little brown dog. This makes me a pansy. And yes. She’s right, at the end of this year; I am not liable to be any different!
You’re a Sucker for Street People
“Tell them you are a Sucker for Street People.”
Some of you might not think this is a weakness, but I have cash in my side pocket with cash and coin just so I can hand money out. This is not a “God save the people thing”; it’s an Irish Superstitious thing. When I was a little kid in New York City, my Dad and I were walking in Central Park. He was accosted by a street person, and he handed him some coin. And then, another and then another. Then a woman came up and asked for his autograph. He said, “No, I’m not that guy on TV” and he didn’t give out his autograph. I said, “Dad, I don’t get it.”
There’s an old saying: “There but for the Grace of God go I. Being hyper superstitious, and a tad paranoid, I think to myself. If I don’t give this guy some coin, I could end up on the street like him.
So, somehow, I ended up like my Dad. DNA does not fall far from the tree. Could I change this behavior? Yes. But I don’t want to, so I won’t.
My wife walked by again.
“Tell ‘em how you’re a Slob.”
I’m a Slob
It’s just that every “neatness” action I do must be conscious. In over 40 years of being married to two different women, I have not been able to clean after myself effortlessly . Now, I do try my best. And my wife laughs at my efforts, but I must confess I have spent more years trying not to be a slob then other behaviors. It has not become automatic. I must consciously clean up after myself!
And, I don’t do it well.
My wife made me write that.
For years I could hide behind the “mess” and havoc of the children. 4 kids. The oldest is now 40, then 38, 36 and 30. So, as you can tell they have been adults for awhile. For the first twenty years, I could coast along with the tribe, and the kids did a lot of the cleaning up.
My game has been up for a decade or so, and I am revealed to be what my father called a citizen of “Doxeyville”. That was his battle charge for getting all of us kids to clean up. Well, truth be told, again, since my wife is editing this. I am still a member of “Doxeyville” the people down the block in Kalamazoo who never, ever, ever cleaned up; even for Easter. And when we walked in their house, no one made a remark about “Oh, the house is messy; we really need to clean up.” So, now the Doxeys have been immortalized through my pen, and I truly weep, uhum, for myself.
A Flibberty Jibbet
“Tell them you’re a freaky minister type.”
In the Sound of Music, there is a special song in which the Nuns sing about the “poorly fitting” Maria, who somehow, even though she has a good heart, has so many qualities that get in the way of being a true qualified Nun.
“How do you solve a problem like Maria, how do you catch a cloud and pin it down, how do you solve a problem like Maria? A Flibberty Jibbet, a Will-of-the-Wisp , a Clown…”
All of my life I have thought of myself as a Flibberty Jibbet, even though I don’t really know the technical meaning. My wife calls me a “silly nut”, but I prefer Flibberty Jibbet. I do accents; make constant word plays, then more accents and puns.
“Chris, Why Don’t you get converted?”
As I remember, I was graduating the next week, and about to be ordained in a year. This guy, who I guess never really liked me was walking up the steps to the Student Union. Come to think of it, he was from Denver. It was 1970. I did one of my silly jokes, a play on words with an accent. He just turned on me and spat out a vituperative snarl. “Chris, why don’t you get converted?”
OK, he didn’t like my quip. It turns out, I was kind of like Maria, but I kept my image good enough to keep getting promoted. I was only silly at home and in person. I was never a Flibberty Jibbet after that, except with my family . I learned my lesson after a few dignified mature types cornered me for smiling too much.
If I could sum this whole topic up, all of my life no matter how much gravitas, seriousness, or weighty matter I was discussing, I have always secretly been a “Silly Blissed out Fool”.
“Silly Blissed Out Fool”
“Tell them you’re a Silly Blissed out Fool”.
Maybe I carry around an excess of Serotonin. I have been walking even more, so my serotonin is probably going to increase even more. I present this for some of you natural fools who might be hiding in the midst of the self-important grim serious world.
My wife likes that fact that I can readily confess to these things. Confession is a thing I have not had a problem with most of the time. Maybe, because I don’t think of many issues are worthy of condemnation. Maybe silliness is a major sin; it’s just that it is so much ME, that it’s hard for me to excoriate myself with a whip for being a “Maria”.
My whole family giggles. So maybe these things that I know are not going to change are a part of my DNA and my family background.
Blessings to those of you who at the end of 2012 are still going to be carrying your blessed uniqueness and loving yourself. About a month ago, I realized that there is a well known phrase that people don’t ponder in a certain way:
“Love your neighbor as yourself.” Without thinking of it, there is a presumption there – that you do love yourself. For the Year 2012 carry this thought. I am going to love myself, so that my capability in loving others will be easily served. The more I ponder this thought, the more I realize that there are a whole bunch of people who bear their teeth at others because they just can’t manage a smile for themselves in the morning.
I showed my wife this article. She passed on it. Then she said: “Tell them not to get you wrong. You’re an odd one, but you’re a lot of fun! And I hope you don’t change all the way through 2012 and beyond.”
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Top-level comments on this article: (2 total)Hi Christofer.
You have a wonderful wife! :) Bernd, too, strives to keep me honest. Are we lucky or what? :)
This was a whole load of fun to read. Well ... that's true of all your articles.
Please don't change. :)
Hugs,
DianneBecause of your encouragement, I won't change. The emerging subconscious sometimes creates something close to dyspepsia in me, and tells me to "straighten up", but in my old age, I am starting to feel that the way I am formed is significantly important to my daily psyche. There were times in my youth when that silly church beat me up and laid the chains to my back (so to speak).
The wife. She is a big reason why I am incurably blissed out now. I guess that's like your Bernd. Here's to them on this New Years week! Thanks for your kindness!
For all your faults and foibles,; we love you still-
The pansy
the sucker
the slob- the flibberty-jibbet and the blissed out fool- the tag-along selves that stand in the shadows of the giants that make up you. Thanks Chris- enjoyed this a lot- Always EllaBeautifully expressed. This gives me hope. Love ya.
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