Tag Archives: physical prowess

Bulky

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Bulky: (adj) taking up much space

Very simply explained, if I can’t lift it or move it, then it’s bulky. Because I work under the premise that if I can getDictionary B my arms around it or my hands beneath it, there is nothing I can’t lift.

As I’ve gotten older, I have tried to overcome that little piece of macho, but somehow or another, I still feel it is my duty, as a male Homo sapien, to impress all the people around me–especially the females–with my physical prowess.

And by the way, that goes for opening jars, too. Fortunately, that particular duty is pretty simple. But every once in a while, you get one which has apparently been glued on. Then I get very nervous. I don’t want some other male god-figure to sweep in, pick up the jar and open it after I have failed to do so.

Then I would feel I should be taken to the Yukon North, placed on an iceberg and pushed out to sea to await my inevitable death.

Yes, it doesn’t matter how much sophistication we possess–sometimes, if we’re men, we hope something ends up being bulky so we can impress by moving it.

And I guess women occasionally pretend something is bulky–so men will have a reason to brag.

 

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Axe

Axe: (n) a hand tool with one side of its head forged and sharpened to a cutting edge

It has been my discovery that trying to tell stories about my physical prowess always leaves the hearers a little suspicious.dictionary with letter A

Even though this tends to offend me, I have to be honest and say that when I hear others explain to me how strong they are or how powerful they perceive themselves to be, I am torn between laughing out loud and finding a quick way to exit.

Such was my experience with the axe.

When I was a kid, my dad grew some pine trees which we eventually used as Christmas trees for our house, since there weren’t enough of them to ever constitute a good cord of wood.

So it fell my lot one season to go out and chop down the Christmas tree and bring it back to the house.

I was thrilled (as most fools are on the way to the errand).

I had never wielded an axe. Matter of fact, I was quite pleased that I knew using an axe involved wielding.

So when I arrived next to the pine I had selected, I looked at it and noticed that the trunk was really only about five or six inches across. How hard could this be?

Now, I do not know whether the bottom of my pine was made of steel, or if my axe was not made of actual metal–but I must have hacked at that thing for a good twenty-five minutes, never succeeding in hitting the same place twice.

So when it finally tumbled over (glory be to God) the trunk looked like a pencil that a beaver had chewed up.

I carried it back to the car and into the house, found some way to get it into the tree stand, feeling a great sense of accomplishment.

But I can tell you–for the next week and a half, I could not move my arm nor my shoulder, to such an extent that I missed a day of school, to lay in my bed commiserating over my axe fiasco.

So looking for an adequate summary for this tale, I will borrow a bit of wisdom from my African-American brothers and sisters:

I will never again “axe” for an axe.

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Arm-wrestling

dictionary with letter A

Arm-wrestling: (n) a trial of strength in which two people sit opposite each other with one elbow resting on a table, clasp each other’s hands, and try to force each other’s arm down onto the table.

Dick was boisterous.

I must apologize for the ambiguity in that sentence. Let me rephrase.

My friend, Richard, had a tendency to be a bit pompous and overwrought. So at a gathering of family and friends, when the conversation had lulled–yet there was still enough chips and dip for everyone to hang around–it was suggested that we have an arm-wrestling competition.

Candidly, I normally quietly slink away from such adventures. It’s not because I’m a wimp. It’s not that I lack physical prowess. It’s just that at any particular time, you can link your paw with another person and discover that they have amazing arm strength–and you can end up looking like a real loser.

So I fell quiet.

Not Dick.

He claimed that he had never been beaten at arm-wrestling. Most of the men in the room were fairly confident that they could whip Dick at this adventure, so they gave him room and pretended he was the master he purported. It was an act of mercy.

But not Candace.

Yes, one of the women in the room decided to challenge Dick to a match.

Candace was strong. Somewhere in my consciousness, I was fully aware that she was capable of beating Dick. I was about to step in and change the subject to spare him the humiliation of the confrontation, when Dick piped up and said, “I could beat any girl.”

Such a bad move.

All the women in the room immediately rallied behind Candace and began to cheer for her, which forced the guys into the decision of either deserting Dick and their masculinity, or giving feigned support to the fool.

There were even some bets.

So Candace and Dick sat down and linked hands for the competition. One of the things I can tell you about arm-wrestling is that once you join your hand with another person, you almost immediately have an awareness of whether you can beat them.

When Richard got into his position with Candace he bleached white. He knew he was in trouble.

And in trouble he was. She whipped him in less than three seconds.

Not only was Dick totally flattened by the experience, but it was never forgotten. And every time after that, when he became prideful, Candace was available to remind him … of his greatest Waterloo.

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Able

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Able: adj. 1.having the power, skill, means or opportunity to do something: He was able to read Greek at the age of eight 2. having considerable skill, proficiency: The dancers were technically very able.

Able-bodied.

You know what’s funny about that phrase? It’s always followed by the word man.

“Able-bodied man.”

Apparently, women’s bodies are not able.

Although I would vigorously object to that conclusion, I would hesitate to use the word “able” by itself. Because certainly our politicians in Washington are able. Many of them are able-bodied, which they are delighted to demonstrate as they quickly climb stairs to overcome the notion of pending senility.

But what I want to know–what I’m curious about–and what haunts my consciousness, is: “Are they ready?”

Because to have “able” without “ready” is the concept that because somebody has the look of success, they actually are going to be ready to deliver the goods. So not only is “able-bodied man” a bigoted phrase, but the whole presentation that having physical prowess has anything whatsoever to do with coming up with a good idea on the spot, to overcome stupidity, is equally fallacious.

So even though I’m glad that “able” is in the dictionary, we should be careful in our assessment of our fellow-human-beings, to make sure that with their ability–with their able-bodiedness–is also some confirmation that they are ready.

Otherwise, we might end up with a stalemate, where able people who are not ready actually are making decisions for our lives while lifting weights instead of lifting our burdens.