When I think back on 2006 three personalities pop up that will particularly remind me of the year. (At least at this particular moment):
The first of these people would be my good buddy Philip (pronounced feleep). He was one of my Quebec students who came down on a mission trip this year with “Chiropractors with out Borders”. Any way I remember Philip because he is the master of translation. I remember one evening when we were at dinner I was leading conversation which was of course focused around politics, philosophy, and the arts when I was asked to tell one of my witty jokes. Of course I obliged. So I stood up and asked for a translator in which Phillip gladly accepted the invitation. So as started telling my tales of humor (which others with no culture at all have told me that they are childish chuckles filth) and would break every now and then for Phillip to catch up with his French translation. As I watched the man translate I was amazed by the orgasmic passion that would cross his face as he would relate my joke in his own native tongue. His body would contort and convulse in a way that would put a Shakespearian actor to shame. It took me back to a awhile back when I visited a southern Afro-American church and watched a preacher preach the gospel with an organ playing in the background. The preacher had the whole congregation convinced that the fires of hell were at the door steps of the church for those who did not repent. Phillip was truly an artist.
The next personality was that of the same group. Her name was Isabel. The particular event that comes to mind a conversation in which we had. This was one when we were driving into town for an interview with a local TV station. I asked her for her complete name so I could introduce her to the interviewer. This was a big mistake! She pronounced her beautiful French name with such elegance one could not help but be awed. I then said “aw’ll jis say “Isabel” cuz awe caint pronunce that-un’” Then she said “No, no, try to say it”. Of course then with my stubby North American English speaking tongue I slaughtered her surname. She then looked at me with the spear like eyes of an eloquence teacher and calmly said “You are not getting out of this car until you learn to pronounce my name correctly.” I then protested but she won and I then started on a journey of countless attempts on a good French pronunciation. I was eventually reduced to a male pile of rubble before her tower of femininity. Luckily later I was able to make a truce so that further attempts would be made later only just to escape this Canadian Amazon! Even so I smile when I think of her.
The next personality would be an unlikely one. This story begins when I was back in the Quad-city area visiting friends and staying with my gracious hosts Ginny and Ron Orud. To be honest I do not remember if it was really early in the morning after I had just awoke or if it was just at dusk when I was sharing a bottle of Grants scotch with Ron. But in both cases I was in the same neurological state. I remember hearing a sort of rustling sound coming from the screen door witch enclosed the Oruds closed in back porch. I looked down to see one of Ginny’s cats, we will call him “Ludwig” (sometimes names are changed to protect the innocent). Any way I witnessed little Ludwig with his little arms stretched in a crucified position across the screen with only his little cat finger nails holding them in place, looking very much like a priest lying prostrate for ordination, accept upright. He had his little triangular ears pointed forward and was intently studying some other little critters while they played. This reminded me of an ole Far Side comic of the little cat staring out the window and watching all the cats playing and having fun while the poor little cat inside had to stay put and practice the violin which he was holding in the picture. Yes Ginny is a strict mother to her cats. But everybody knows that this is for their own good. Ginny has to be a tough disciplinarian to prepare them to go out into the world. That is if they can ever get past that darn screen door! Later I then saw another cat walk into the room behind Ludwig. I think his name was Wormwood or something. He just sat there and shook his head as poor Ludwig who was driving himself to the edge of sanity.
So the personality awards for 2006 go to (drum roll) Phillip, Isabel and Ludwig the cat. Congratulations!!!! Bet ya did not see that one coming.
Now comes the time in this e-mail for which I anguish the passage of time. Oh my God! I’m only six years away from being forty!!! I never thought this day would come.
I have always imagined myself to grow old gracefully. To retire to egg sandwiches and baseball. (Which by the way the Dodgers did pretty good this year. They finished at the top of their division.) Maybe I can be one of those sexy 40 year olds I always see on TV. Hmm…Probably not. I am more on my way to becoming an old colostomy bag. You know the guy who the kids in the neighborhood love to ghost knock on his door because they always get a crazy reaction when he comes to the door. “If it were not for this swollen prostate and these sagging Depends adult diapers I’d come out and whack you with this stick! Dern burn it!” Or like that guy from the movie “Little Miss Sunshine” when he gets caught snorting heroine, “I’m an old man for Gods sake” all the while giving really bad ad
vice to youngsters. Well..maybe not that far… but you know I’ll be crodgidy.
Well Happy New-Year to all if you have not yet heard it from me.
FeO2
Three Religiions
Facing the wall
