Tag Archives: assembly

Assemble

Assemble: (v) to fit together the separate component partsdictionary with letter A

When I was a young father walking through a toy store with my offspring, I had one peculiar horror that lay deep within my heart, constantly plaguing me with apprehension.

It was not the fact that my children were going to beg for toys; this is their God-given right. This terror was not based upon my unwillingness to turn them down and tell them the status of our budget or that their birthday was near and they should wait; that was my God-given right.

What scared me into beads of sweat was the possibility that one of my children would pick up a reasonably priced toy, well within budget, but displayed on the front of the box would be the three most dastardly words ever printed:

“Some assembly required.”

For the record, for all time and even for those folks who think I might be teachable–I am a klutz at putting things together.

There are occasions when changing the roll of toilet paper requires some reflection, space and maybe even a bit of consternation and prayer.

I can read directions, but I can never locate A on the object, where it’s supposed to meet up with B, thus making me unable to move on to C.

  • I have tried reading the directions slowly.
  • I have had someone read them to me, trying to comprehend them from a distance.

It doesn’t make any difference.

Whenever I see a set of directions, what I view is an upset of directions.

I have disappointed my children as they watched their father fumble with pieces. Matter of fact, one day, with a particularly notorious bicycle, which touted that it was “only seven pieces,” I took so long that my son fell asleep on the couch.

And you want to know the worst part? I always eventually have to turn it over to someone else.

I do not even achieve the satisfaction, at the end of my arduous effort, of standing back and pointing to the object of my frustration and proclaiming victory. Someone mercifully steps in and takes the pain from my fevered grasp and relieves my agony.

Some people are good at one thing and some at another.

Yes. if I were ever stranded on a desert isle, my greatest problem would not be maintaining my calm or industriously finding materials to provide me shelter.

I would just have no freaking idea … how to turn it into a hut.

 

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Thank you for enjoying Words from Dic(tionary) —  J.R. Practix

Alarm

Words from Dic(tionary)

dictionary with letter A

Alarm: (n) 1. an anxious awareness of danger 2. the sound or warning of imminent danger

Do they still call it a fire drill?

I’m not sure.

When I was a kid, about every six or seven weeks, the school bell rang uncontrollably, and we were told to rise from our seats, get into single file and march out of the building into the awaiting parking lot in anticipation of what could have been a fire breaking out.

Of course, we all knew it was just a drill. A practice, if you will. But it was still a bit alarming to hear the bell, and delightful to be able to escape the world of desks, pens, paper and droning “teacher voices,” to go outside for a few minutes with your friends.

Of course, in the adult world, they had plans set in place to rectify that potential for pleasure.

You had to remain silent.

This was the same thing you were cautioned to do when standing in line for the cafeteria, gathering for an assembly or even finding your path to the bathroom.

Silence.

I realize now that we were never in danger of fire. And I’m not being critical of the craft of preparation. I understand it thoroughly and agree with the premise.

But the alarming part of the process of leaving our school, considering the potential for a blazing inferno, was actually the fact that we were taught to be non-social.

  • Couldn’t talk in class.
  • Couldn’t talk in the cafeteria.
  • And couldn’t talk on the way to the fire drill.

And then we wonder why human beings grow up sheltered, protected, suspicious and just downright cranky. After all, we’re not about to let our offspring chum with one another when we were forbidden to do so.

Yes, I would say the most alarming thing about hearing the alarm bell tell us to go to a fire drill, considering the alarming possibility of a burning school, was the fact that we weren’t allowed to be human and interactive.

I guess that’s true all over the world. I’m sure Chinese people discourage chattiness in their children just like Americans quell such outbursts. But I wonder if we lose something by being too alarmed.

Don’t we sacrifice the child-like instinct to enjoy ourselves, believe for the best and want to whisper interesting things to our neighbor?