Bongo: (n) a pair of drums held between the knees
One of the more annoying aspects of pursuing a Christian philosophy of life is the need to at least attempt to treat every person kindly. Even though it works out in the end, the journey to get to the destination is often arduous, if not exhausting.
Randy was a tag-along.
When I was in high school, our church youth group decided to start a coffeehouse, and Randy volunteered his services to assure his place in the historical moment.
Here was the problem: Randy had no vices–just faults.
A fault is a difficulty someone possesses which you really can’t harp on too much because it doesn’t do any harm–it’s just mind-numbingly frustrating.
- Randy talked too much
- Randy had really bad ideas
- Randy’s breath smelled like he had been licking the bottom of a birdcage.
- And as it turns out, Randy played bongos.
This came out when we were discussing musical possibilities for our newfound venture.
We had located our guitarist, a piano player and some singers, and were ready to close our discussion when Randy suggested that what we lacked was a “bongoist.”
Quite certain there was no such word as “bongoist,” I explained that not every song needed rhythm. He agreed–and promised to only play the bongo when it was warranted.
On opening night Randy sat with the bongo between his knees, and determined in the moment’s anointing, to play on every song, including a very confusing interpretation of Kum ba yah.
He was oblivious to his intrusiveness and lack of timing.
Everybody expected me to tell Randy to “de-bongo.” I couldn’t. He was so enthusiastic. Matter of fact, after our first meeting, he explained, with tears in his eyes, that he thought he had found his calling.
I’m happy to report: fortunately he became an accountant.
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