NOT NEARLY THIS CUTE, NOT I

But I tried something different yesterday.

First, allow me to explain. I'm an excellent driver. As good as Rainman, at least. I seem to encounter lousy drivers in the state of Arizona.

Second, allow me to explain. For years I thought God had played a bad joke on me making me live in MTV IL. (Maybe He did, but I don't think so.) I thought He had gathered all the bad drivers and put them in one small town. Where He in His infinite and omnipotent wisdom also placed one tremendous driver--Me. It was my penance to be stuck surrounded by imbecilic driving. He was teaching me patience which I needed (and still badly do).

Third, allow me to explain. After nearly one decade living in a state that does not require Drivers' Education/Training, I have decided that those behind the wheel in MTV were only a preparation for what I would encounter later in life in AZ. Thank goodness for those who initiated me.

So yesterday rather than pounding the steering wheel, hitting the liner of my closed sun roof with fist or open palm, saying something I shouldn't, even when I'm alone in my vehicle, or being tempted to extend my middle finger, I resorted to something juvenile: I stuck out my tongue at the driver who was driving 70 miles an hour in a 40 mile per hour zone which forced me to wait not just on him, but subsequently a long stream of cars firing off the line at the green light. (Maybe I composed such a long sentence that my reader(s) would forget my first subject, verb, and object--so I'll reiterate: I stuck out my tongue at the offender.

While I felt foolish, while I no way looked as attractive as the Husky pup with his tongue exposed, you know what? It felt good. In fact, it felt just as good as any of the other measures I have taken in the past to vent my anger.

I'm gonna do it again. I don't care how stupid it looks or sounds. But I may just do it when I'm driving solo.

OF TIME AND PLACE

So how do Time and Place co-exist? What puts one in a spot at the right moment to make something happen? Does Time depend on Place? Vice Versa?

On numerous occasions two people have been working on the same idea and the same time without any communication with the other. No knowledge that the other exists. Yet their ideas not only overlapped but were carbon copies.

Then at other times, ideas didn't come to fruition, didn't pan out, or were lacking one element that made all the difference.

A friend of mine told me that I began social networking that evolved into FaceBook. You see, somehow I got the idea for The Quote Board that was a staple in my classroom for over 20 years.

This is the way it worked. I would overhear a comment made by a student who wasn't aware of the ramifications of the power of language, the ambiguity of meaning, the levels or context of meaning. I would write it on the chalkboard (long before grease boards) with the quotation marks and with the student's name. It would stay on the board for 24 hours to allow others to see what was uttered in my classroom.

One of my student's kept track of every quote for the entire year. I wish I still had a copy. Some of the things that were said! And out of context were pretty funny. Other former students turned teachers have utilized the concept in their classrooms with similar success. One traffic controller in Nashville, Tennessee, who deals with calls from 10 other in-the-field workers recently told me he had incorporated the board himself.

And I was close to taking it to the next level. But I hit a snag when about ten years ago, I thought of a nationwide social network. I was going to call it BodyBook where people took pictures of their bodies and shared their lives with their friends... Time and Place.

WHERE'S THE TEETH?

The picture of Louise made me think of some, in fact, almost all of the pictures in our family albums when I was a child. Not that all the subjects were dressed up, but some were. Not that all the women relatives and friends of ours wore fur, but many did. And if one was wearing a fur stole, for instance, then why not snap a picture?

What it reminds me of is how serious the people looked. They rarely were captured smiling or having fun. Most looked as if they were off to see or had recently returned from a trip to the dentist. If they had just returned, they had refused to have their teeth blocked or numbed for the dental work. (As I once did. Few can comprehend that my first crown was done without any medication. I think my dentist friend was angry with me for eliminating him in the club championship. But no more. Never. If offered, I would take a shot for a cleaning.)

Not only my family's picture albums, but almost all the pictures I've seen from say 1920-1955 were that way. I know not all the people back then had bad teeth. So why didn't they smile? Times were tougher, yes, but picture taking time was often celebratory times marked by happiness. Yet the sober as a judge countenance.

Both of my grandmothers were always smiling and laughing as I remember, but you could never tell it by their pictures. Maybe cheesing wasn't the style back then. But most look better with a smile. Except Mona Lisa. Her attempted smile just sorta creeps me out.

BABEL

When our daughter lived for awhile in Argentina she had to re-learn or add to her knowledge of Spanish. Two years in high school and one in college were simply not enough to get by in new environs.

An adventurous gal, she has climbed the bridge at Sydney, Australia; parasailed at Catalina Island; zip lined in Costa Rica, Chile, and another place I don't recall; got stung by a stingray at Coronado Island; stepped on some coral in Greece; and went hang gliding in Argentina. Fortunately for her parentals, she doesn't usually tell us until after the fact.

While riding up to the mountain in Mendoza to hang glide, an Argentinian and a Spaniard were with her. They spotted a llama on the mountainside. All three in their own language announced, a Llama, a Yama, and a Jama. Then they shared a laugh.

That's all of the story, but whenever I see one, and I love to see one, I think of all three pronunciations.

Oh, yeah, the hang gliding turned out great even though there was a fire near them on the mountain where they took off.

AND HIS HAT ROSE LIKE YEAST

There seem to be some simple things that I don't know. One for sure is why the big chef hats? It has to be for identification purposes only. Otherwise they make no sense at all.

When I chefed, at Burger Chef we had to wear a stupid paper folded hat to keep our 60's Beatle hair out of the burgers and fries. I hated the hat as I do most all hats, simply because I do not have a head or face for a hat. But at least no hairnets were a requirement.

Who besides Marge Simpson or the Coneheads would need a hat so tall? While I'm at it, what's up with the Pope's big hat? Is it to make him look more regal? Taller? Most Pope's don't have much hair anyhow and they don't cook except when the cardinals are trying to pick a new one and letting the people in the Vatican Square know whether they have a new Pope or not.

That's another thing I should know but can't remember. When they decide, is the smoke gray or black? I think the clearer smoke means they have one, but I've been 11/12's Baptist and 1/12th Presbyterian for 3 years now, but 0% Catholic, so how should I know that one? Ok, I should, but just add that to the list.

Another one I don't get is the Navy hats. They don't look to serviceable (pun I didn't catch on my first reading) to me, and they don't make anyone look too good either in my opinion. I like their uniforms, but unless someone can explain the usefulness of those hats, I'm not liking them.

Let's see, I've probably offended cooks and chefs, the Pope, and one branch of the armed forces. Let's see if there are any other toes to step on. Women's hats. Nope... not going there today.

DIFFERENT PLACE/ DIFFERENT STORES

When I was a small town kid, there were neighborhood stores galore. My favorite was Harlow's Market, just a few blocks from our neighborhood.

Kenny Harlow and his wife ran the store. They were kind to kids who maybe just bought a Popsicle too share on their front porch. I spent a few hours there. I even remember walking there one time just to put a penny in the gum ball machine, hoping to cop the speckled ball that awarded me with a quarter or something. I never won, so how am I supposed to remember the prize?

Other stores some not quite so near, but within walking kid distance was Bolerjack's Market before it grew; Liebengood's where good old German baloney was sliced to order for thickness, and Ted Shafer's. Max's or Parkway Sundries wasn't exactly a grocery, but we stopped there for shakes mostly. On the perimeter were Rogers' Grocery, Mays Market, and Jackson and Martin's before they, like Bolerjacks got big.

We would probably venture into each of those stores once every week or two. Baseball cards, bubble gum, Gulf Wax for scrubbing paraffin on cars at Halloween, running an errand for our mom's. I used to think those were bygone days.

In Arizona, we shop at Fry's for the best meat anywhere, even better than Harry's Market in MTV, Wal-Mart for staples that we like better than Fry's plus toiletries (I hate that word) like deodorant and shaving gel. But that's not all.

Sprouts for produce, at least some kinds. Before Sprouts came to our locale, it was tough to get good, fresh vegetables. I craved good Midwest tomatoes. I still do, but all the stores picked it up and they have very good produce.

But that's not all. Fresh and Easy, Saveway for their bread, Albertson's for toothpaste and dishwasher tabs, and one of my favorites--Trader Joe's. They don't have a lot of name brands. For example, if you're looking for Ruffles potato chips or diet coke or pepsi, you won't find them there. But what you find, whether fresh or frozen is excellent.

Once every week or so, you'll find us in all those stores plus Sam's and Costco probably once a month.

Never a baseball card or bubble gum, though only Wal-Mart has the Ice Cubes that I like. Never a Popsicle. We have adulted ourselves into coffee (there's a new Starbuck's vanilla something that tastes a little like a latte) and whole grains. We're a lot greener now, too.

But although similar in numbers of stores we invade on a regular basis, I miss the times where I would have to share a Popsicle. And where I could walk to the store. And where I'd tell Kenny Harlow what I wanted, and he'd go get it. But maybe most of all, I miss those baloney sandwiches.