THE ART OF BODY LANGUAGE

The look. I don't get it. What is the short order cook/ soda jerk/entrepreneur looking at in this cover form Post magazine August 24, 1954? And why is looking with one eye shut?

But then again, I never was much at reading what others wanted or didn't want from me. As a child it resulted in spankings. Oh, yes, I grew up in a family where spanking was in vogue. Fortunately, I got far fewer than I ever deserved. Mine were of the last resort kind, the "this is going to hurt me more than it will hurt you" kind.

As I got older, I could not discern if a girl was interested in me or not. Unless she sent a friend to ask if I was interested in her. Which never happened as much as I liked. At times, I not only don't understand body language today, I must not listen very well. I miss cues when my wife tells me she likes something. A recent necklace purchase is an example. She told me she liked this necklace that played "Amazing Grace". Well, she reads my blog, she knows that the best song all-time, but I just blew it off. She even told our daughter about the necklace. Who happened to relay it to me.

And I went out right away and purchased it for my wife, right. Nope. I didn't know what she was talking about or where she had seen it originally. Did I inquire, go on-line, or return a call to CAQ to find out which necklace it was? None of the above would be the correct answer.

The necklace came in the mail last week. From Christian Books (imagine that--we only get their catalogs every week or so and have ordered many books and other sundry items from them). I just made my wife cringe by using sundry--a pet peeve word to her. But that's just my backhanded way of letting her see that I do listen. Once in awhile.

Now about body language and that scowl...

THERE'S NO PRESENT LIKE THE TIME

Ok, that's my last attempt to turn around words or change meanings. But it's also the topic for today's blog entry.

It seems the older I get, the more I reflect on the classic American play, Our Town. In fact, it may just be THE American play. There are so many truths in Wilder's classic, that it has stood the test of time.

Is it scholarly? Hardly. But to me, that makes it universal and appealing. Who even understands some of the greats? Who reads Shakespeare on their own? In American Lit, how about Faulkner? His acceptance speech for the Nobel Prize in 1950 is the staple in most high school classes, and sorry, but it's not too good.

But I thought this entry was to be about time and what a present it is from God. Oh yeah. What do you think your parents would really like from you? Do you think they need anything? Well, yes, they need you to spend time with them. How about your spouse? Your brother or sister? Your friends? "That's what humans do. They go around wasting time as if they have all the time in the world" the playwright said. And, obviously, he's right.

If you want to give someone a present, give them time. Remember the old expression, "He wouldn't give me the time of day"? Don't be that way to a loved one or someone you respect. Sit and give them some time. Call them. Text message them. Take them out to dinner. To a play. To a movie. But spend time with them.

And parents, please don't ignore your children. Whatever you're doing is not as important as spending time with them. Quality time is redundant. Time is a present. It's also quality. Spend it with those you love.

I LIKE IT--THE LIMIT'S THE SKY

And there are thousands of cliches that work just as well when we re-arrange them. Such as

Find will love a way (ok, I'm not off to a very good start)

Keep will love us together (ok, 0 for 2)

When a woman loves a man (now, I'm on a roll)

Whenever I dream, all I have to do is want you (not perfect, but a fit)

A stitch in nine saves time (maybe not as much, but it works)

A doctor a day keeps the apple away (all analogies break down after awhile)

No pain, no gain (that works)

Once in a time life (ok)

Jetsam and flotsam (I never could distinguish)

The War Civil (neither make sense except as oxymorons)

A balance hangs in life (maybe I've made my case)

Now if I could just get my p's and q's in order, I'd close.

NEW HARMONY, INDIANA--AND, OF COURSE, THE RED GERANIUM

The first time I remember being in New Harmony was when I took a grad class in Museum Education for the Gifted. I'm sure I had been there before as a kid, but when we went places in my parents' car, I was usually asleep in the back seat. Something about motion.

I've slept on trains (my favorites), planes, automobiles, and buses (my second favorite). All across Austria and Switzerland on a train. While I missed spectacular views. My wife and daughter thought I was ill. Just sleepy. Rocked that way.

But when I stayed awake in New Harmony and crossed that quaint old bridge, I knew I was getting close to some great food at The Red Geranium. Everything is outstanding there. But one item really stands out--Lemon Shaker Pie. The tartest of lemon tart pies, it has me salivating as I type.

The last time we were there it was snowing. There was a carriage, drawn by horse, giving guests rides around the town, quiet and emptied except for us and only a very few cars to watch the sight out of Rockwell or Currier and Ives. It was memorable.

And our son has discovered New Harmony. He enjoys The Red Geranium. I don't know if that old bridge is still standing. But the bridge between generations is there. And I'm glad. I hope he has great memories of the place, too. I hope he can stay awake and not miss a page out of the Midwest's past.