Bosom

Bosom: (n) a woman’s chest

Chuckles.Dictionary B

Yes, fond memories of giggling at church camp every time we sang the song, “Rock-a my soul in the bosom of Abraham.”

Three or four of us guys would purposely sing the word “bosom” louder–until a couple of the preachers would move to sit on our row, threatening us with some form of pending damnation.

I was so young that the mention of the word “bosom” could arouse my Southern Hemisphere. And I wasn’t even around girls who had bosoms. But I knew they were in training–bras, that is.

I also found myself staring at the full-fledged bosoms of women who were a little older, but not so old that you felt like a pervert thinking about them. I was twelve years old and I was under the spell of the bosom.

The female bosom is still a symbol of great passion, focus and exaggerated attention.

Maybe it’s because none of us were particularly ready to stop sucking on them when they stuck a bottle in our mouth.

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Borrow

Borrow: (v) to take and use something that belongs to someone else with the intention of returning it.

I have an inkling that determining whether people are getting older can be evaluated by judging the shows they watch on television.Dictionary B

For instance, when I was younger I would never have watched “Wheel of Fortune.” And even though I would not call myself an avid viewer now, it is occasionally on in the background while I do other things.

Likewise, I would have made fun of myself for watching the judge shows like “People’s Court.”

I bring this up because on these court TV shows, each case finishes up with an interview in the outside hall, where the announcer asks the litigants what they learned from the experience. Universally, the eternal truth that falls from their lips is, “Don’t trust anybody.”

Benjamin Franklin intoned, in his pseudo-intellectual way, “Neither a lender nor a borrower be.”

It is a wonderful philosophy–if you are never in need.

But since my life has been bespeckled with all varieties of poverty and prosperity, I can appreciate the fact that every once in a while … you are one cup of milk and one bowl of cereal short of breakfast.

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Borne

Borne: (adj) past participle of bear

For centuries it was a common belief that a pile of garbage spawned flies.Dictionary B

Yes, it was thought that the reeking mess and putrid odor generated the life of the common pest.

It wasn’t really until a couple hundred years ago that we finally concluded that the flies existed elsewhere and were drawn to the garbage, which begs the question:

What would flies do if we didn’t provide them stink?

Likewise, what would be borne out in our society if we did not constantly advertise the more nauseating aspects of human behavior?

After all, it’s not video games, pornography and violent movies which birth terrorists and murderers. But there’s no doubt that the terrorists and murderers are drawn to mediocre fare.

What if we allowed our conscience to consider what type of creatures are stimulated by our art, our words, our politics, our religion and our attitudes?

Is it our responsibility to take authority over what we produce and make sure it isn’t a bar for the fly?

Or are we to assume that in the absence of trash, flies would just develop a hankering for caviar?

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Born Again

Born again: (adj) converted to a personal faith in Christ

“It’s my life.”Dictionary B

Hell, that would be nice, wouldn’t it?

Yet by the time I took my first breath, my mama and papa had already inserted so much hard-wiring into my circuits that much of my existence was already hammered in–triggered for response.

And if that wasn’t enough, I have five years of life which I can’t remember in detail, where I was brainwashed into accepting the pitter of the patter of my parents.

They weren’t done with me yet, though.

They sent me to school, camp, church, symposiums, and all sorts of educational excursions to further program my data base.

And then all of a sudden, when they were through with me, they tossed me out of the plane like a skydiver, screaming at me as I fell, “Don’t forget to open your parachute!”

Damn, I didn’t even know I had a parachute.

I certainly didn’t know how to access it.

You see, people often express their disdain, dislike and even dissociation with religion and spirituality. I listen to them voice their concerns, often legitimate ones, about the excesses and unnecessary interference of those who are pious and petty.

But I must admit that by the time I was falling out of that “coming-of-age” airplane, plummeting to Earth, I realized that the greatest need in my life was to have the chance to be born again–this time free of the control of others.

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Boring

Boring: (adj) not interesting; tedious.

I used to be deathly afraid of being boring.Dictionary B

Because of this phobia, I almost accidentally became friends to my children instead of a good parent, denied my faith rather than creating a backbone for my principles, and attempted ridiculous entertainment projects to prove I was youthful and alive.

I don’t know why “boring” scared me so badly–except in our particular American culture, it is the word that ushers in the “last rites” for misunderstood ideas.

In other words, if something is determined to be boring, it is soon abandoned and left to die in the field of forgetfulness.

But then one day it struck me–every great notion and progressive invention in the history of our race was at one time considered boring.

Can you imagine Thomas Edison explaining to all the people who deeply loved candles and gas light lamps how his incandescent bulb might be able to work better, and ultimately even be cheaper?

Boring.

Or how about Abraham Lincoln, stumping to his Cabinet and Congress, how the addition of the freed slaves to our everyday life would give us a great brotherhood to exemplify the idea of liberty?

Really boring.

Or the guy named Salk, who came along and said that just weeping over children with polio was not enough–that maybe we could come up with some sort of vaccination to protect them from the disease instead of just praying for them and telling stories about their hideous struggles.

No thanks, Jonas.

Boring is not what is truly misplaced or ill-timed. It is the piece of truth that we do not yet understand, which we decide is meaningless because it mystifies our limited reasoning.

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Bored

Bored: (adj) feeling weary because one is unoccupied

With those who have communion wine running through their veins, I would probably get in trouble for suggesting that there are parts of the writ of Holy Dictionary BScripture which could certainly use a good edit.

As a writer, I edit myself all the time. Matter of fact, if somebody pulled out an article I wrote seven years ago, it’s possible that I might need to apologize.

So as I look down the list of the Seven Deadly Sins (which I shall not mention due to space and out of fear of immediately falling under conviction) there is one obvious absence, which should either be inserted to replace one of the existing choices–or maybe as just a header, to describe what causes all seven.

Bored.

When we are bored we are capable of everything from stumbling to atrocity.

I do not know where we got the idea that life was hatched in the mind of the Creator with the intention of constantly entertaining us, but part of maturity is certainly realizing the importance and inevitability of “down time.”

For instance, nothing is more annoying than a seven-year-old child telling you that he’s bored–especially if you’ve just returned from the park, a movie and Baskin Robbins.

The need to be entertained is what motivates both sluggard and murderer.

I always feel I have achieved the best of humanity–and made the Good Book sensible–when I finish my day without ever feeling bored.

 

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Border

Border: (n) the edge or boundary of something

Is the purpose of a border to separate us from the people we hate?Dictionary B

Or maybe we don’t hate them–maybe we have convinced ourselves that they’re just so “different” that they need to be on the other side of something.

And then if that line doesn’t work, we can place guards to protect our border from aliens invading us.

But what if the guards aren’t efficient enough? We’ll need some sort of fence. After all, you know the old saying: “Good fences make good neighbors.”

But what if the more athletic adversaries learn how to jump our fences? We will certainly need a wall.

But God knows they are industrious enough in their thinking to fly airplanes over our walls and land on our turf. So we will certainly need to stop them at the airports and determine whether they are one of us, look like one of us, and will fit in with the rest of us.

This is going to take a tremendous staff of well-trained individuals who are able to identify the non-us.

And how limited should we make that vision?

Should it be based upon personality, color, attitude?

And we certainly can’t forget religion. We don’t want infidels coming in to infiltrate our spiritual utopia.

It seems that in no time at all we will need more people keeping other people out in order for us to enjoy being who we are.

And then comes the final fear:

What if the people already here are just very good at hiding their predilections of being foreigners?

 

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