Category Archives: B words

Ballpoint Pen

Ballpoint pen: (n) a pen with a tiny ball as its writing point.Dictionary B

In the pursuit of proving my maturity by adequately sprouting a jaded attitude, I must stop off and admit that many things in life get better.

Once we survive the tenuous nature of invention, the comical attempts at prototypes and the initial product being launched into a market, needing in no time to become “new and improved,” we still often end up with many things that thrust us forward to progress humanity.

This illustrious beginning is presented to you from my wacky consciousness to discuss the ballpoint pen.

I was around when this creature emerged from the deep lagoon of office supplies.

My first memory was the Bic.

It came in a package of 7 or 8.000 (I exaggerate). It was a thin, clear tube with a pen stuck inside, a black stopper on the bottom and a plastic cap on top.

These pens were notorious for writing for about 15 minutes and then either leaking at the tip or ceasing to perform the function, while simultaneously taunting you with visible ink which refused, for some reason or another, to come out–like a spoiled teenager stuck in a room.

One of my friends had the brilliant idea that these cheap pens could be brought back to life by placing the tip underneath a match, thus reopening the surface for use.

It actually worked. I should say–it worked if you were patient and didn’t overheat the pen.

Because I was not so patient, I began to have a bizarre collection of Bic pens around my house in various stages of 1st-. 2nd- and 3rd- degree burns. Some were even melted beyond recognition.

They were cheap enough that you could just go out and buy more–but for some reason I had this sinister desire to scorch them. My friend who made the original suggestion did very well at just barely touching the tip with the flame, to re-engage penning.efforts.

I always went too far.

So I can truthfully say that in my lifetime, ballpoint pens have improved–except for the fact that the last time I used one, it opened up and the ink leaked all over my hands and made me look like a criminal … who had just been fingerprinted.

 

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Ballpark

Ballpark: (n) a baseball stadium or field.Dictionary B

I’ve only been to one baseball game.

What is strange about that statement is how much I really enjoyed the experience.

The whole endeavor occurred because I was looking for a cheap way to entertain my children without spending an arm and a leg at an amusement park. A friend gave me some free tickets to a minor league baseball game and I thought I could give my kids a new experience, and they would think I was spending a lot of money, and I would be Dad-of-the-Year–for at least a day.

Little did I know what glorious pageantry and procedure goes into the whole process of preparing for one of these games. The field was beautiful, the grass was green, the baselines were white and clean and the players were dressed in elaborate costumes.

Unfortunately, because the game moved so slowly, my children started to get bored, so I resorted to using the refreshment stand as a means of uplifting them.

Therefore, the odyssey to the ballpark to see the game ended up costing me $35 in snacks.

So I never returned again–not because the extravaganza lacked impact. No, it was absolutely magnificent.

It was because I just couldn’t afford the free tickets.

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Ballot

Ballot: (n) a process of voting, in writing and typically in secret.Dictionary B

It’s not important unless it’s honored.

Simply believing something is valuable does not grant it worth unless it has proven itself to have integrity and brings progress to humanity.

So even though many people consider the ballot to be the symbol of our freedom, the true symbol of our individuality is the liberty to speak out.

Until we reach a time when everybody in America over the age of eighteen is able to vote in whatever framework is comfortable to them, the elections can be manipulated and twisted to the advantage of the most devious candidate.

We also cannot insist that the ballot has great power when electing a President comes down to the electoral votes of a half-dozen states. When a vote in Rhode Island has the same weight as a vote in California, then we will truly have unleashed the power of the ballot.

Until then, we’re allowing pernicious, well-educated pundits to find evil ways to limit the authority of one group while promoting the predominance of another.

I think voting is a beautiful idea–if it is allowed to be purely a head count.

But when we divide it into districts, states, and then place restrictions on citizens, we are lying to ourselves and the world around us.

Let the ballot be the ballot.

Then count the votes, and from that tally … derive a leader.

 

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Balloons

Balloon: (n) a brightly colored rubber sac inflated with air and then sealed at the neck, used as a children’s toy or a decoration.Dictionary B

Merrilee was one of our high school cheerleaders.

If you’ve forgotten, holding that position is similar to being a goddess. So an invitation from Merrilee to come to her home and participate in any activity whatsoever was a shortcut to social Nirvana.

Merrilee was having a birthday party for her friend, Judy. She contacted me to come over and help her blow up balloons. It crossed my mind to tell Merrilee that I had never blown up a balloon before, but fortunately I caught myself before committing high school cultural suicide.

So I went out, bought a small package of balloons from the local five-and-dime, sat in my room and practiced. I actually reached a point where I was able to get to the first stage of balloon-blowing-up–what one might call “the initial plumping.” Reaching that plateau, it gets a little easier.

But you see, here’s the problem: I practiced too much.

It was a hot day and by the time I got to Merrilee’s house, I was already light-headed from balloon inflation.

She smiled at me and said, “I know you’re going to be the best at blowing these up.”

My chest puffed out so much that I was sure she saw it, so I grabbed balloons and started blowing.

I wasn’t even ten minutes into the process when I became so dizzy that I thought I was going to pass out. I broke out in a cold sweat. I knew this for a fact–whatever happened, I needed to make sure that I remained conscious.

Apparently, I was beginning to turn “shades of ill” because Merrilee asked me, “Are you alright?”

I wasn’t, but reassured her that all was well. I started gulping big, deep breaths, which seemed to help my lightheadedness.

I thought I was about to escape the moment, when suddenly, uncontrollably, I threw up.

It was an unplanned vomiting, which I certainly would have stifled if I could. Fortunately we were outside and I ended up merely decorating the grass.

A pall fell over the gathering. At length, Merrilee said, “O-o-o-0-h.”

That was it.

Everyone jumped away, and it was agreed by a consensus of the conclave that I needed to go home.

I did.

It took a solid month for people to stop kidding me about the balloon escapade, and truthfully, to this day … I don’t know if it totally has been scoured from their minds.

 

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Ballistic Missile

Ballistic missile: (n) a missile with a high, arching trajectory, that is initially powered and guided but falls under gravity onto its target.Dictionary B

Speaking in the abstract is the most common way to end up with abstract thought.

Sometimes I am greatly confused how people who have absolutely no experience with some matter expound feverishly on the issue, displaying both intensity and ignorance.

That’s the way I feel about a ballistic missile.

As we deal with the many hot spots of controversy and conflict in our world, there are those wearing three-piece suits, ties, with freshly trimmed hair, sitting in Washington, D.C., who postulate on the need to aggressively launch air strikes against other nations to keep them from doing things which we have found unfavorable.

One day I found myself at a rally in Mobile Bay, at the coming-out party for a new battleship. I was not able to get on the ship since I didn’t have a pass, but stood about fifty yards from the vessel, as a dummy load of explosives was shot off into the air.

Once again, I was far away from the source of the explosion but the volume of that sound rattled my chest, giving me heart palpitations and leaving me unstable on my feet for the next half-hour.

It was terrifying.

So every time anybody mentions bombing, attacking or sending drone strikes to another country, I remember that sensation.

I often wonder how important it would have been for Harry Truman to have gone to New Mexico for the testing of the atomic bomb. Sitting in his office having it described to him made the decision to bomb Hiroshima too easy.

He had no idea exactly what he was doing. So when it came time to bomb Nagasaki, he rubber-stamped his decision and dropped a second annihilator.

It’s not so much that I question the wisdom of that move. Instead, I challenge the immaturity involved in making the decision.

If you’re going to pronounce death on a group of people, you should have an awareness of the power you’re unleashing.

I am tired of ignorant people talking about war like it’s a game of Stratego.

When a ballistic missile goes into the air, gravity brings it to earth–where it kills people who were once living.

 

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Ballerina

Ballerina: (n) a female ballet dancer.Dictionary B

It is amazing to me, the things that pop to my mind when I hear the daily word that comes up through the luck of the draw of the dictionary–and suddenly an image is literally dancing across my consciousness, and no matter how hard I try to consider some other interpretation, it remains predominant.

I remember a very obscure song I knew as a young boy, which referred to a ballerina. (I could probably look up who did the song on the Internet, but I would lose the spontaneity by trying to impress you with my knowledge instead of impacting you with my experience.)

I think the song had a harpsichord in it and sounded a little old-fashioned, but it was a rock song that began with the haunting musical phrase, “I had a date with a pretty ballerina.”

And then, something about “her hair of gold was so bright it hurt my eyes.”

But what really struck me about the song was the lyric, “Was I surprised? No. Was I surprised? No, not at all.”

It was sung really high–in a falsetto.

As a kid, I loved that song, though I wouldn’t admit it to my friends, who thought it was really sissy.

The singer was one of those cast-offs from the British Invasion, who sounded very English, and therefore, to my Midwest ears, like he possibly was homosexual. (It was a different time…)

But this didn’t prevent me from having great emotion and affection for the song. It awakened me–that music, by itself, has a particular anointing, whether you understand the lyrics or comprehend the message or not.

So when I think of a ballerina, that song comes to my mind, and even though I don’t know who sang it or what the hell it was all about, it still conjures images of a dainty lady graced with great ability, pirouetting into my mundane life.

 

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Ballboy

Ballboy: (n) a boy who retrieves balls that go out of play during a game such as tennis or baseballDictionary B

I grew up in a village which was about 20 miles from a big city.

Even though we insisted that we were an autonomous population. we privately knew that we had to go 20 miles to actually be entertained or purchase clothes that were not second-hand.

Every once in a while, the big city would invade our little burg with a possibility. This happened when I was ten years old.

The minor league baseball team which headquartered in the big city decided to bless the neighboring burrows with an opportunity–to let one of the favorite sons be a ballboy for one night at the park.

It was a big deal.

You got to go to the game, put on a uniform and run out and chase balls that went awry, or give bats to the superstars.

So they further made a big deal of it by holding an audition to select the ballboy, which drew a crowd of about 45 kids between the ages of ten and twelve.

I was one of them.

Even though I did not like baseball very well, I was fairly athletic and certainly competitive. So at the end of fielding flies, chasing balls, and even some opportunity to use the bat, the committee selected me to be the ball boy for this game.

I had never won anything in my life expect the privilege of being born.

My skin was tingling, my head was swimming and the rest of me just wanted to pee.

So they took me into a room and pulled out the uniform I was to wear for the game and asked me to try it on.

It didn’t fit. Not even close.

I was chubby, which is what my parents called it, and everybody else knew to be fat.

I tried hard to fit into that uniform. I said that by next week I could lose some weight. But reluctantly, they awarded the opportunity to the boy who came in second place. Even though he had less ability, he also had less blubber.

I was shocked.

I was devastated.

And on top of that, I heard a giggle or two from the gallery, causing me to feel humiliation.

Until I sat down and wrote this essay today, I did not realize that I still had remnants of feelings about the injustice. Here’s an idea–one we might want to use in the future, even when electing our leaders:

Let’s find the best person for the job, and then pick the outfit.

 

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Ballad

Ballad: (n) a slow sentimental or romantic song.Dictionary B

There are only two reasons for music.

I guess I should present that better.

After many years of playing, writing and performing music, I have found that it offers two functions better than almost anything else: it makes people dance and it makes people feel.

Honestly, music that doesn’t elicit either of those reactions tends to be either manipulated or industrial.

That’s why I like ballads.

Even though I find the dictionary definition above to be a bit passive-aggressive by referring to this style of music as slow, sentimental and romantic, I feel that slowing things down, having enough sentiment to produce emotion and on occasion to be romantic, to be confirmation of a more enlightened human life.

I favor ballads so much that someone once commented, “You can’t do a whole concert of ballads.”

I am so amused by anyone who thinks they can manipulate things of beauty to do exactly what they want them to do to fit into the box provided. You can do anything with music you want as long as it makes people dance or it makes people feel.

And every once in a while… there is a time to dance and on other occasions, a time to feel.

 

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Ball

Ball: (n) a solid or hollow sphere or ovoid, especially one that is kicked, thrown, or hit in a game.Dictionary B

Thirteen years old is such a fussy, giggly time.

I was at church camp and one of the counselors had forgotten to bring balls for us to play.

First of all, being thirteen years of age, when the counselor announced that we didn’t have balls for us to play with, we all had to giggle uncontrollably. (You see, that’s the problem with the word “ball.” It has so many meanings that it’s nearly meaningless.)

But anyway, back to my story.

So when it was announced that we were “balless” (hee-hee) we thought that this adult standing in front of us was going to go out and acquire us … balls. (This article is doubling over with double-entendres…)

Anyway, he didn’t.

I don’t know whether he was lazy, or figured there would be some sort of other entertainment for us that wouldn’t require balls. (Oh, my God…)

So in frustration we began a great search across the campgrounds. After about an hour and a half, in a ditch outside of the cafeteria, we found an old basketball that obviously had been discarded, which was about halfway filled with air.

In other words, it was still round, but did not bounce. When we tried to bounce it, it more or less splatted.

But this became our ball for the week.

Since no other circular objects of play were afforded us, we changed the rules of every sport to use what was provided.

So our basketball game, rather than being a dribbling affair, became more like football, where one would run toward the goal, knocking people over, and then shoot it and try to rebound and catch it before it haplessly squatted to the earth.

So by the end of the week, we had discovered that the most logical way to use our hampered ball was to play game after game of kickball.

I cannot tell you how sad we were on Day Four, when the kicked and abused sphere sported a gash and lost its remaining air of life.

As important as it is to have a ball, it is much more important to have air in it.

Somewhere within, there’s a lesson for life, but since I am desperately trying to get out of this awkward column … I will let you draw your own conclusions.

 

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Balk

Balk: (v) to hesitate or be unwilling to accept an idea or undertaking.Dictionary B

I guess the classic phrase is, “He who hesitates is lost.”

I don’t know exactly what that means. Lost in what sense? I think it would be better stated, “He who hesitates is last.”

Probably the most useless attribute that you can press upon your children is caution.

Yes, I know we want them to be careful.

I know we live in a generation which now believes that bicycle riding requires helmets.

But by the same turn, there is very little in life offering a pocketful of surety.

Whether it’s pursuing a romantic relationship or praying for a miracle, there is a certain wild, abandoned faith that needs to be in place to give us an opportunity to end up as winners.

A calculated risk is fine as long as we don’t use too much time calculating and realize there still will be some risk.

In the same manner, a well-thought-out plan is noble if the “well-thought-out” doesn’t take up all the time which might have been used to enact the plan.

  • Have I ever been blessed by balking?
  • Have I ever received insight by waiting to be informed instead of seeking out confirmation?

As I sit here today, I must say no … and feel that if I take any more time considering it, I would just be balking. 

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