Tag Archives: suburbs

Dated

Dated: (adj) out-of-date; old-fashioned

Oily tongues and greasy lips.

This would be my description of the verbiage that comes off the mouths of those settlers who presently have found their place on the prairie of Earthscape.

Everyone thinks they are so smart.

Everyone believes they’ve invented the wheel—but they don’t want to call it the wheel. That’s too dated.

So instead they call it the “circlebon.”

And they smirk, as if cleverness has found a permanent home in their hearts.

I just hate it when a song is played and it’s beautiful, powerful, emotional—and people sit around and discuss how the production is so “dated” that it’s difficult to listen to.

Or they’ll watch a movie and call it dated. Yes—it is dated. It was produced on a particular date.  Traveling into the future to produce it later was impossible.

They took what they had, what they knew, what they felt, what they believed, and they put it on a screen. So without you commenting on the camera work or the lighting, or whether the credits were done in your favorite font, could you simply just bring your soul and let it ease down into the warm waters of the experience?

No?

I understand.

Just please take your oily tongue and your greasy lips elsewhere.

I don’t care if something is dated.

I want to know if it can touch me, if I can feel something real and if it inspires me to find the better parts of my humanity—instead of becoming a gorilla with a weekend pass to the suburbs.

Backyard

Backyard: (n) a yard behind a house or other building, typically surrounded by a fence.Dictionary B

One of the most startling events in one’s life is to return to your childhood home as an adult and discover the obvious shrinkage.

As a kid, I thought we lived on a property that was at least twenty acres. I used to roam our backyard, and would literally become exhausted by walking from one end to the other and back again, due to the fact that it had a slight downward slope, which insisted on being upward on the return.

But many years later I stood and stared at our house, which was more like a cottage, with a backyard that barely exceeded the definition of postage stamp.

By the way, it was now overgrown with trees which had been mere saplings, and seemed cramped, due to the fact that the new landowners had placed a swing-set in the yard, creating obvious clutter.

I tried to close my eyes and envision it as I saw it as a boy of ten, but the minute my peepers were open again, I was startled with disappointment.

It does grant hope.

For those parents who are concerned that their children do not have enough yard to play in, and move to the suburbs to accommodate the lacking, I will tell you: if you give a kid six square feet of grass, he will be convinced he’s on a football field.

 

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