Tag Archives: enthusiasm

Curtsy

Curtsy: (n) a respectful bow made by women and girls

I cannot officially report that the stigma ever went away.

I think it passed after a couple of years—but Glenn certainly carried the sniff of it all through his general education days in our small town.

It all happened quite innocently.

For some reason, our high school decided to have a square dance for homecoming.

One of the teachers, our Spanish instructor, was quite the proponent of square dancing, and apparently made a case to the other teachers—how “cute it would be” for a bunch of high school students to participate in the old form of hoofing.

I remember that learning the square dancing was particularly mind-numbing, partly because it was so abstract to my adolescent mind, and also because I thought it looked like some of the stupidest shit I’d ever seen.

But the worst part was when we took one whole day—yes, an entire school period—to learn how to bow and curtsy.

Because somewhere in the process of doing this ridiculous dance (that should have been killed off with the rest of Dixie) there is a lot of this bowing and curtsying nonsense.

So each one of us had to come forward and show off our best bow, if you were a boy, or best curtsy, if you were a girl.

At first, the reluctance in the room hung like moss from trees.

But when the threat of extending the lesson into yet another day was put forth, we all realized we needed to get through this quickly and efficiently, so we became filled with (fake) enthusiasm, which nearly brought our Spanish teacher/square dance aficionado to tears.

Because we were trying to be exuberant, and even a little madcap, when Glenn took his turn–because the girl in front of him had just curtsied–his brain apparently froze and he did a curtsy also.

The room grew still.

Our teacher/instructor was so offended that Glenn was “mocking” her that he ended up being sent to the principal’s office.

But that wasn’t the worst of it.

Being teenage boys, we made the assumption that unbeknownst to Glenn, his body was screaming from some homosexual prison to be free.

And in doing the curtsy, he was manifesting his real desire, which was to be a fag. (This was long before “gay.”)

Even as I write this, I realize how ridiculous it sounds. But so did everything else I thought when I was fifteen.

Glenn later went out for the football team–probably to prove he was a man.

I think he expressed disdain for girls (like the rest of the macho locker-room gang) just so nobody would think he was “overly sensitive.”

Glenn had to be careful when we showered after gym class—not to cast his eyes in the direction of any fellow. So normally he sat on the bench, quietly dressing and staring into his locker.

This is why I can tell you of a certainty, through this tragic story of Glenn, that the curtsy is mighty dangerous.

 

funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Coast

Coast: (n) the part of the land near the sea; the edge of the land.

It was a Thursday afternoon. (Actually it probably wasn’t a Thursday afternoon, but I needed someplace to start this essay.)

I was twenty years old, had a music group and was gradually starving my way to success. The definition of that process, by the way, is that there may be visible signs of progress in your career, but you’re also about ready to be evicted.

I had spent all of my youth and the beginnings of my adult life living in the midwest and visiting the mid-south. I had no complaints about the region–just felt deprived of the opportunity to go to the coast and see the ocean. Any coast would have been fine, although I did not favor Northern Canada and the Arctic Ocean.

No opportunity came my way to go and view the glorious blue. So finally I just decided to make an opportunity. I scheduled a little coffee-house gig for us in Sarasota, Florida. Matter of fact, I ended up being able to procure three such opportunities on our way down there. This trifecta of bookings was certainly not going to be enough to cover expenses. I didn’t care. I was going to the coast to see the ocean.

Our vehicle was in terrible shape, so on the way there we broke down–once mechanically and twice from bald tires, which finally exhaled all air.

Yet we finally arrived in Sarasota. Breathlessly, with my hand shaking on the steering wheel, I headed off to see the beauty of the ocean, the waves crashing onto the shore.

It was mind-altering, as all new experiences should be. I just sat there with the members of my group, and we stared at it for two hours. I was so excited that I went to a nearby cafe to order some lunch, which considering our budget, consisted of sharing a muffin, a hot dog and a cup of coffee among three people.

All of us were bubbling over with enthusiasm, as we shared with our waitress that we had come all the way from Ohio to Sarasota to see the ocean. Each one of us had a brief testimonial of how much the experience had impacted our life.

The waitress stood and listened patiently, and when we finally fell silent, having completed all of our praise, she quietly deadpanned, “That’s not the ocean. That’s the Gulf of Mexico.”

She walked away, confident of her geography.

I looked at my two comrades. They were just as distressed as I.

Staring out in the distance at the waves, it suddenly seemed meaningless.

Me wept.

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Bus

j-r-practix-with-border-2

Bus:(n) a large motor vehicle carrying passengers by road

I was a town kid.

Growing up, I always lived close enough to my school that I was expected to walk.

I would occasionally complain that I was at least a half a mile away, and maybe the school bus could pick me up. The administration thought it was neither valid nor particularly humorous.

So I never got to ride a school bus.

It was annoying. Other kids who came in “from the country” always got off the big, yellow magic machine with frowns, and I thought to myself, don’t they understand the beauty of the moment? They’re on a school bus. I’m walking or peddling my cheap Schwinn bike.

Then came football season.

Our first two games were held at the local field, so there was no travel. But the third game was scheduled away from our little burg, so required a school bus to take the team to the game.

Even though I was excited about playing the sport, what really thrilled me was that I would get to climb on a school bus and travel.

It was a road trip.

I couldn’t sit still in my seat. I kept trying to get everybody to sing songs. I even fought back some tears over the sanctity of the surroundings. I was so loud, so overbearing, so all-encompassing that the coach finally screamed, from the front of the bus, “Shut up! We’re just going to Mount Gilead!”

My fellow teammates laughed.

But I was hurt.

It is an evil thing to quell the enthusiasm of an expanding mind.

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Brio

j-r-practix-with-border-2

Brio: (n) vigor or vivacity of style or performance.

In writing this daily essay, I dictate my sentiments to a typist. Her name is Janet.

When we came across the word “brio” today, she exclaimed with great enthusiasm, “We should use that one!”Dictionary B

Feelings like that do pass through my mind from time to time. In doing a series of storylines about the words of the dictionary, one would assume that I am increasing my vocabulary and am starting an orphanage for wayward words.

What I mean is that once I’ve uncovered these abandoned “children of the lexicon,” I embrace them to my heart, include them in my everyday life and speak them forth to grant them renewed purpose.

No way.

Any time you have to explain the word you’re using, you are talking down to the people around you and signaling to them that you are a first-class fruitcake.

So even though my typist is very excited about “brio,” I shall never use this word again.

I will leave it in the wilderness of forsaken consonants and vowels which long ago fell together to form words which now only evoke confusion or displeasure.

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Animated

dictionary with letter A

Animated: (adj.) full of life or excitement; an animated conversation.

Do you remember the old commercial where a woman with a sour expression on her face turns to the camera and laments the number of prunes necessary to alleviate her constipation?

“Is two enough? Is six too many?”

I remember when I first saw the commercial–it really grossed me out. I was young and the idea of a constricted bowel life was beyond my comprehension.

Time marches on. Or in the case of this discussion, somewhat stands still.

I feel the same way about living an animated life.

We have many different opinions on whether a certain amount of excitement is enough or if an additional degree of enthusiasm is too much.

Matter of fact, we tend to compartmentalize our lives into occasions where exuberance is acceptable, and those profiles where we normally choose to some degree to be more adult or somber.

What is an animated life?

1. Wherever you are, be there.

I don’t need people to be jumping up and down, but I do like to have the sense that they’re present and aware of their surroundings.

2. Care about something other than your cares.

One of the surest ways to become boring is to have no awareness whatsoever of the feelings, needs, or sentiments of others.

3. Match your surroundings.

The Good Book phrases it really well: “Rejoice with those who are rejoicing; weep with those who are weeping.”

What a fabulous idea.

4. Go for one more.

  • If you’re in a conversation, ask one more question.
  • If you’re enjoying a movie, hang around for one more minute to discuss it.
  • Take another sip of tea before you leave.
  • Think of a reason to express appreciation.

Just one more. It is the definition of the social second mile. It lets people know that you have fulfilled your commitment, but you’re animated enough to offer an additional footnote.

That’s what I think about being animated. I don’t require that people leap to their feet and applaud my efforts, but I would like to know that my presence in their lives was significant enough to create some sort of pleasurable expression on their face.

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Amen

dictionary with letter A

Amen: (exclam) 1. uttered at the end of a prayer, meaning “so be it.” 2. used to express agreement or assent

Turning my TV channels in the wee hours of the morning, I stumbled across a whole series of religious programs, proffering their view of the holiness of God and the varying degrees of the depravity of man.

Although they were quite different in appearance and style, their content was similar in one remarkable way: every once in a while, as the speaker was touting his or her revelation, they would stop and say, “Can I get an amen?”

After a while, it lost some of its charm and spontaneity and began to reek of desperation. It was similar to pausing in the middle of a romantic encounter and asking your partner what she thinks of your lip technique. Or going to have a new tire put on your car and having the attendant insist that you come and watch him and grunt your approval during the process.

It just isn’t very attractive in the human experience to be so needy that you feel compelled to demand reinforcement.

I know we’re supposed to tell people we love them, but honestly, after a while, it sniffs more of platitude than it does gratitude.

An “amen” should come forth when the audience spontaneously feels energized by a notion or a prayer that causes them to give voice to their support.

I don’t like to go to a concert and have the group onstage, before they have even sung a note, insist that we all begin clapping. I don’t like being forced to stand up and I don’t want to be “rallied” to a cause which is either not clear to me or has not stimulated much enthusiasm in my soul.

If we do too many charlatan actions in our lives, faking our zeal, we soon will forget what it’s like to be overtaken by joy, overwhelmed by blessing and swept along by the magic of great ideas.

As I watched the shows last night and the camera scanned the audience, they were a strange mixture of bewilderment and submission.

If God needs me to merely perform the function of a pawn which He pushes across a chess board to generate the appearance of movement, then honestly, I’m not particularly interested.

But I am fully prepared to be affected, stimulated and rejuvenated … at any time.

Aloe Vera

Words from Dic(tionary)

dictionary with letter A

Aloe Vera: (n) a gelatinous substance obtained from a kind of aloe, used especially in cosmetics as an emollient and for the treatment of burns.

My mother was obsessive.

I do not say that in a judgmental tone. Perhaps a certain amount of obsession is necessary to maintain maternal energy. I’m not sure.

But what she would often do was obsess over some idea, totally selling out her soul in that direction–until a new revelation made its way onto the horizon, which she embraced with equal fervor, although the past experience did not necessarily warrant such enthusiasm.

She went through an aloe phase.

She encountered someone who had an aloe plant and became so enthralled with the idea–that it was used in ancient times as a healing agent, and even appeared in the Bible, which gave it credibility and supernatural implications–that she decided to grow her own aloe plant.

It would be difficult to describe how much she fussed over the sprout. I thought she was going to expel a kidney in her anticipation of it completing its cycle and birthing the pods which contained the magic ointment.

Then–a problem. For you see, the aloe plant produces an ointment which is very helpful for treating burns or cuts. At least, that’s the promo. So once her plant had grown, she found herself in the uncomfortable position of hoping, at least secretly, that I would burn or cut myself, so she could try out her plant.

I’m sure she felt horrible to wish for such a difficulty to befall me. It may be my imagination, but I thought she left matches lying around more, and I can’t swear to it, but there seemed to be a few shards of glass near my toys.

But being a young boy, it wasn’t too long before I warranted treatment. Trying to mask her thrill over becoming an ancient physician of remedy, she expressed concern over my boo boo, and then broke off one of the pods from the plant and squeezed the gooey stuff onto my cut. Then, almost hourly, she checked the progress.

I cannot truthfully tell you that my finger healed any more quickly with the aloe vera than it did with some alcohol and a band-aid. But she was convinced.

Matter of fact, she brought me into the room in front of strangers, held out my wound for inspection and explained her mode of treatment. But like so many other things my mother pursued–and also due to the fact that it became difficult to plan enough injuries to maintain the enthusiasm about the aloe–she eventually dropped her care of the plant, and the poor little thing dried up and died.

We didn’t speak much about it after that. Matter of fact, she never used aloe vera again on any of my cuts. We were back to hydrogen peroxide and alcohol.

But I will never forget the first time my exuberant mother squeezed gooey-gooey from a plant onto my finger.

It brought her joy.  So I offered an obligatory smile.