Category Archives: B words

Beam

Beam: (n) a ray or shaft of light.Dictionary B

I don’t like to break down in my car. It is especially annoying in the middle of the night along the side of the road.

Unfortunately, I did it quite a bit in my younger years since I made crappy money and could only afford crappy vehicles.

I have a distinct memory of traveling one night with another friend to a concert–he in his car and I in mine.

Suddenly my engine decided to…well, do something other than “engine me along.”

I pulled over, fairly relaxed because I knew my friend was behind me and thought that together we would be able to solve the problem. I did not have a flashlight, so I asked my buddy to turn his car around and shine his headlights on the engine area of my car, so I could see if there was something obvious I could correct (or at least stand around in a macho profile in front of the grill of the car, pretending I was contemplating how to fix it.)

He agreed.

Here was the problem: about the time I started to figure out what the various shapes were in my engine chamber based upon the beams of light from his car, he turned them off.

I asked him why, and he explained, “I don’t want to run down my battery.”

I was very perturbed.

So I asked him to turn them on again, and to please leave them on. This time he left them on a little bit longer, and I was just about to mess around with my carburetor when suddenly they went off again. When I confronted him, he said, “I don’t care what you say–I don’t want to run down my battery.”

Somehow or another, through the intermittent use of his headlights, we were able night to get my car started.

Would it have been faster if he had kept the beam on?

I contend yes.

He insisted he was being prudent.

He felt self-righteous because everything worked out well.

But that incident does make me stop and think about the value of light in our world.

Sometimes we turn it on. Sometimes we turn it off, trying to save it for ourselves.

But here’s the situation:

You don’t ever know when the light will be needed … to help get things started.

 

 

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Beagle

Beagle: (n) a small sturdy hound with a coat of medium length, bred especially for hunting.Dictionary B

Shall we discuss the word “rescue?”

For you see, when people tell me that I should get all my pets from “Rescues,” I must remind myself that these creatures have been salvaged from dire straits.

Therefore, since they do possess a brain, they just might have memories of being dangled over the flames of hell.

So when my young son wanted to get a dog, we went to the local Rescue, stepped behind the desk where they keep all the animals in cages, and were suddenly confronted with a collage of confused, frustrated, angry and sometimes even half-starved dogs crawling over one another to gain favor of this most recent human entering the room.

I suggested to my son that he pick one in the corner, who was not quite so survival-minded and seemed to have a sweeter temperament. Unfortunately, we found out that the reason this particular pooch was so silent ended up being that he was near death’s door.

But we nursed him back to health.

He really was a mutt, but the breed he most closely resembled was a beagle. We were pretty sure he would never get too large–except the other unknown portions of him did not know he was supposed to remain small.

So we ended up with a midsized dog who obviously had some brain damage from the trauma he had experienced, and therefore was a little cranky with strangers, while also picking up the personality and goofiness of our clan.

Even to this day, if you mention his name, there will be a split vote in the family on whether he was Snoopy or the Hound of Hell.

He didn’t care.

He had opinions on everything, similar to an old man at a Chinese buffet. But in his own way, he lived a full life of sixteen years before wandering away and apparently forgetting where he left his keys.

One of my favorite memories of that unique creation was his “hidden hound.” Even though I think he aspired to be a full beagle, if you began to howl like you were wailing at the moon, in no time at all, he would join you with a most baleful rendition.

He fought it.

He tried to pretend he didn’t understand, but always ended up with a bit of Southern heritage, barking at the air.

The dog’s name was Madez, and in honor of him, I will place this essay under the title of…”Beagle.”

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Beacon

Beacon: (n) a fire or light set up in a high or prominent position as a warning, signal, or celebration.Dictionary B

Flashing lights.

No one likes them.

I suppose they’re okay on a Christmas tree. But if you’re in a room for a long time and the decorations are too garish, it can become annoying.

We were taught that flashing lights warn us of danger or at least, pending inconvenience. So I guess we need them.

Yet by the same token, a world without flashing lights is a sudden discovery of disaster without any way to prepare or avoid it.

Therefore a beacon can be one of the more unappreciated necessities in the world. They appear in our lives at a very early age.

For instance, you’re five years old. The first snow has fallen and you want to run outside and play–throw it in the air and maybe make a snow man.

You are stopped.

A beacon–your mother or your father–steps in and feels the need to take at least ten minutes of your precious snow time to don you in garbs which inhibit your free movement, all because they want you to be warm and not get sick.

Who knows if they’re right?

It isn’t like you can look back and say, “Yeah, because I wore my ear muffs and toboggan, I avoided a cold.”

No, it’s just an annoying flashing.

And then, when you become a parent and find the need to “beacon out” some piece of wisdom or counsel, you suddenly realize that you are the annoying, flicking going on in the life of a child who loved you moments earlier, until you interrupted the flow.

Case in point: I just finished seeing family for Christmas. One of my jobs is to be a beacon.

That means if I see something that could be ridiculous, dangerous or lead to unhappy conclusions, it falls my lot to flash out a warning.

God, it’s horrible.

For you see, everybody wants to be a cheerleader and not the director of the cheerleaders, who has to decide whether the skirts are too short.

Yet a world without beacons would probably end up being one big explosion of light, producing destruction instead of intermittent blinking.

 

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“The best Christmas stories I’ve ever read!”

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Beach

Beach: (n) a pebbly or sandy shore by the oceanDictionary B

Yet another illusion shattered for this traveling, hopeful vagabond.

As a boy, I dreamed of going to the ocean.

As a young man, I nearly lusted for the possibility of staring at the raging tide.

So as soon as I had enough gumption to start the engine of my beat-up car and point it eastward, I headed off to discover the wonders of the sea.

I arrived.

I got out of my car, adorned in what I considered my best beach wear, which really was a cut-off something-or-other, stepped onto the sand, and immediately noticed that I sank down, just a little bit.

I had seen movies where people walked on the beach. Some of them even ran. But for some reason, my stocky frame made the beach feel a little more like quicksand. So every step was twice as hard as walking on concrete, and therefore, in no time at all became discouraging.

Trying to overcome my disappointment, I attempted to jog so as to dispel the sense that the whole experience was a failure.

  • My knees started hurting.
  • My ankles soon joined
  • My legs were burning and aching.

And within about 25 yards, I fell to the ground, vanquished.

Then, to mock me, the tide was coming in and splashed in my face.

Still lying on the ground, I turned my head to the water. As the next wave gradually made its way in my direction, I thought I heard the froth giggle and say:

“Come back again, fat boy, when you aren’t so plump.”

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“The best Christmas stories I’ve ever read!”

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Be

Be: (v) to exist.Dictionary B

Since we all exist because our parents got horny, we may want to come along and glamorize the story a little bit. Otherwise, we occasionally are overwhelmed by the futility of life, and may even wonder why we were born in the first place.

This demands a certain amount of arrogance.

Since having a baby is so easy that even dumb people accomplish it, we can’t exactly stomp around and claim that we are part of some sort of cosmic eruption or heavenly proclamation.

Finding a “be” is what is necessary to make us content.

And without contentment, we stop being happy, which makes us annoying and causes other people to wish we’d never been born,

I’m not quite sure which is worse–is it my self-doubt concerning my value, or whether everyone around me doubts my value?

So how do you find your be in a C minus world?

How do you discover how to translate a collision of chromosomes into a beautiful, chromatic, climbing scale of living glory?

1. Never think you’re better than anyone else.

Since we all came from an egg, we should all work on being “good eggs.”

2. Don’t be satisfied with your talent.

Use it and multiply it. Otherwise, you’ll wonder why people don’t appreciate you for doing the same thing you did last year.

3. Be aware.

There is nothing sexier or more powerful, intelligent, profitable and viable than noticing what’s going on around you.

If you take these three things and put them into practice, then you have a chance to not only live a blessed life … but to be instead of not to be.

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“The best Christmas stories I’ve ever read!”

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B. C.

B. C. (abv.) An abbreviation used with dates of events that took place before the birth of JesusDictionary B

After human beings were created–or evolved, depending on your persuasion–it did not take us long to find ways to screw one another over, while sealing the decision with a word of prayer.

The true danger with religion is that it allows its converts to pursue evil while not tolerating any transgression in others. Matter of fact, we become obsessed with how vacuous of righteousness the people around us are, as we tout our two or three good deeds as evidence of our superiority.

So it is no accident that the modern era of time is marked by the arrival of Jesus of Nazareth, who made it quite clear that religion was bowling us over, and that our only hope was to embrace our humanity with humility.

Many found his message obtuse.

Arguing with him and criticizing his personal habits soon was not enough, so an assassination plot was devised to rid the earth of a reasonable nature.

Fortunately, better thinkers won out, and today we have his message of “loving our neighbor as ourselves” available, though you often have to be patient to unwrap it from miles and miles of theological tape.

But in the long run, human beings will only survive if they become concerned about the survival of other human beings.

For the phrase, “every man for himself” immediately leaves out women and ushers in a less noble idea of “last man standing.”

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“The best Christmas stories I’ve ever read!”

From the toy shop to the manger, an advent calendar of Christmas stories, beginning on November 30th and ending on Christmas morning.

We need a good Christmas this year.

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Bazooka

Bazooka: (n) a short-range tubular rocket launcher used against tanks.Dictionary B

I wrote a contemplative movie entitled “The Drive.”

Some people would consider it anti-war but since I don’t really think there are “pro-war” options, let’s leave it with my original representation.

I will not get into the total storyline except to tell you there is an anguished father who decides to wreak revenge on the U.S. Government by trying to assassinate the President of the United States in St. Louis.

He chooses a bazooka as his weapon.

I would assume this is because he knows he’s not a very good shot and wanted a twelve-foot margin of error.

So when it came time to film the project, we were in the market to locate a bazooka. The first few people we asked thought we were referring to the comics from the 1960’s. Rather than contradict their perception, we just quietly hung up the phone.

We finally found a collector of WWII memorabilia who had a bazooka, even with its own case. Fortunately, he did not have the shells for it, so we had to figure out how to stuff firecrackers in the muzzle to make it appear that the long tube was threatening.

As I look back, I realize that finding a bazooka and simulating firing it in public was certainly a dispensation of the time. I can’t imagine how many government watch lists we would be placed on nowadays for even inquiring about such an object.

But we not only fired it, we had a street full of extras who ran away in horror and terror at the onslaught.

It was really quite pungent and effective for a low-budget film, but I must tell you–when the actor pulled that bazooka out of the case, which was in the trunk of his car, a chill went down my spine–one which is duplicated as I write this piece.

May we look forward to the day when “bazooka” will only be remembered as a wise-cracking bubblegum comic.

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“The best Christmas stories I’ve ever read!”

From the toy shop to the manger, an advent calendar of Christmas stories, beginning on November 30th and ending on Christmas morning.

We need a good Christmas this year.

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Bazaar

Bazaar: (n) a market in a Middle Eastern country.Dictionary B

I often comfort myself with the knowledge that if I didn’t do dumb things, I wouldn’t have great stories to tell.

So a certain amount of imperfection, idiocy and clumsiness is necessary to fall under the classification of “a good writer.” (At least, that’s my take and I’m stickin’ with it.)

Many years ago, I traveled to Haiti, and being a novice at such a journey, I didn’t take enough money. After I paid all the taxes, tariffs and incidentals, I ended up with 72 cents in loose change to last me for two weeks.

My lodging was covered and so were my meals, but I didn’t have any personal money.

One of my guides on suggested that we go to the local street market, or bazaar, to see what the Haitians had put together through their creativity.

I don’t know why, but it didn’t even occur to me that these artisans might just want to sell their wares to hapless Americans. I wasn’t in the bazaar for more than thirty seconds before I was completely surrounded by determined individuals trying to sell me what they had built, cooked or grown.

The stuff was beautiful.

They were great salespeople.

But you see–I only had 72 cents.

To the average Haitian, any white man from America is independently wealthy and probably arrived on their shores in a yacht.

So using a word of Creole here and there, I tried to explain that I had no money. This only encouraged them to sell harder, assuming that they were just one catch-phrase away from garnering my business.

They also kept dropping their prices.

Finally, after about five or six arduous minutes of grueling exchange, I pulled out fifty cents and bought a lovely, carved statue. The person who did the work probably took at least four hours to make it, and I felt like a real jerk.

But they were delighted to get the fifty cents, and I intelligently escaped quickly out the back exit from my experience … at the bizarre bazaar,

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“The best Christmas stories I’ve ever read!”

From the toy shop to the manger, an advent calendar of Christmas stories, beginning on November 30th and ending on Christmas morning.

We need a good Christmas this year.

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Bay Window

Bay window: (n) a window built to project outward from an outside wall.Dictionary B

I was recovering from wounds that had been self-inflicted by my indecision and fear.

For the previous two years I had lived in uncertainty concerning my value and mission. It did not rob me of all of my joy, but it certainly created a detour of the supply train granting me contentment.

I just couldn’t wrap my head around what purpose would be derived by continuing to tread the same path.

In the midst of this, I made a move.

I rented a duplex in Sacramento, California. It was the first living space I had acquired of my own for some time, and it had a lovely master bedroom with a bay window that looked out over a small forest.

It was on a frosty December afternoon that I sat on my bed with the first fruit of twilight creeping around me, and stared out that beautiful window at the view of the trees, when all of a sudden, a few snowflakes appeared in the air.

It was so beautiful.

The image is still etched in my mind, with the memory of a chill going down my spine–a sensation of contentment and awesome wonder about the beauty of life.

Although I was not surrounded by wealth nor was it the last time I would find myself in dire straits, I can always refer back to that incredible vision through that bay window … which kindly reassured me that I was making progress.

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“The best Christmas stories I’ve ever read!”

From the toy shop to the manger, an advent calendar of Christmas stories, beginning on November 30th and ending on Christmas morning.

We need a good Christmas this year.

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Bayonet

Bayonet: (n) a swordlike stabbing blade that may be fixed to the muzzle of a rifleDictionary B

The healthiest gift to the human race is to constantly portray war in the most hellish terms possible.

When we forget that war is hell, we start looking for noble purposes for slaying our brothers and sisters. Sometimes it takes as much as twenty years of passing the peace for us to get thirsty once again for blood-soaked uniforms.

To me, this is the message of the bayonet.

When you talk about bombs, drone strikes or even bullets, you can literally distance yourself from the atrocity of tearing into the flesh of a human being like you’re a wild beast, dislodging entrails.

After all, that is the visual on a battlefield.

People don’t die easily–they must be killed. They must be torn from their vital organs. They are disemboweled.

When I imagine war and I see bombs dropping from airplanes, I have no awareness of such macabre dismemberment.

And when I see bullets flying from the air with bugles blaring the charge of the light infantry, I’m not imagining the decapitation and destruction of human flesh.

But a bayonet is a personal murdering weapon for the soldier who thinks he has found his fortune by being considered patriotic through massacre.

A bayonet must be inserted–twisted–until the blood flows freely, seeping life from the soul you have deemed your enemy.

So in a truly bizarre way, let me salute the bayonet.

It reminds us that war is killing.

It concludes that war is hell.

 

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“The best Christmas stories I’ve ever read!”

From the toy shop to the manger, an advent calendar of Christmas stories, beginning on November 30th and ending on Christmas morning.

We need a good Christmas this year.

Mr. Kringle’s Tales will help you make it so.

Buy today.

"Buy