OK, so sister Sue goaded me into writing a blog. And yes, the first blog was a reaction to her imploring request and both an opportunity to impugn and a chance to write something other than a resume or cover letter meant to glorify the greater me. So I write a blog.
But I do believe that there is a natural order in all things and that the excitement of pressing that “Publish” button obliterated the proper order of the blog (I was too excited to even properly edit the first post – since completed). Thus let me state the obvious to those who don’t know me and the redundant to those who do.
Why Bob on a Hill?
My name is Bob and I live on a Hill. Just “Hill”. Not Street or Avenue or Lane. Still, I assure you there is a road going up the hill and it has a name. But, instead of Road or even trail the name ends in “Hill”. To add to my cartographic indignity the “Hill” upon which I live is a hillside with its crest shared by several “Roads”. I am constantly forced to explain to others where I live. On even one internet site the computer automatically added “St” to the end of my entry. I didn’t want that job anyway.
The post office has both a common and official abbreviation for Hill. The Common abbreviation for Hill is “Hill” while the official abbreviation if “Hl”. Despite the guidance from this semi government source the only abbreviation that I have seen in common usage is “Hll”. I’ve come across this space saving device on the web where I have had to guess at the abbreviation in order to properly map a route. First I am thankful that there are only so many options to shorten “Hill” otherwise I would never have found the proper route to the nearest Tim Horton’s. And I am sure that we are all thankful that they saved the byte reserved for the “i”.
But this whole discussion led me to the Post Office Official Abbreviation website. There I learned that folks have addresses for some odd suffixes:
• Do folks drown if their house is on a “Viaduct” or in a “Well”?
• Do only trolls live on an “Underpass”?
• How long must a brain pause to name a road “Trafficway”?
• Who is so indecisive that they live on a “Stravenue”?
• Can your house fit on a “Lodge” or “Manor”?
• Who ensures that the “Forks” or “Divides” come in pairs?
• If you live on an “Extension” don’t you wish they just update the map before you write the Christmas cards?
But, I digress
In this rarefied air I plan to write with the following goals in mind – enjoying myself, amusing others, and exercising the cranial muscle left fallow by a sudden and arbitrary career dispossession. Until the economic winds of change blow differently here upon the hill I am compelled to continue . . .
Friday, March 27, 2009
Thursday, March 26, 2009
To Sue, Who Ruined An All Male Family
My sister said I should write a blog. She's my only sister so I suppose I should listen. Had one of my many brothers made this suggestion I would probably ignored it unless, of course, they had come to a consensus. But when do four men with a minimum of 45 years of relationship history come to a consensus on anything. Except maybe that I can be a pain in the ass. Sue, however, being the only sister can not be ignored.
Sue ruined a perfectly good all male family. Her arrival on November 18, 1969 did not portend any great event – sure Joe Kennedy died and Cheryl Bachman (playmate Oct 1991) was born – so I have to believe that the devastation of the male dichotomy in our little household may have been the most significant event of the day. I can assure you that we have never been the same since.
Now I am certain that there are skeptics among you that can’t envision that there ever existed an all male paradise. Mom, you say, may have somehow broken this sexist line long before. Although I admit that she may have been a trend setter for some, for us wearing shorts and tight haircuts Mom was and is as tough as any. As the sole daughter of Walter and Lizbet, Mom earned her chops at a very early age. I can not remember which Uncle showed me the scar Mom gave them by swinging the porch swing into their exposed noggin (the Uncles were so tall to me at the time that it is tough to remember who was assaulted) but Mom’s only response to our subsequent accusation was that "he deserved it”. Even though she drank Tea and enjoyed a good read Mom fit well into our bubbling caldron of boyhoodness (I could have said testosterone but we were a little lacking in that department upon Sue's arrival).
Even our pets were male or at least we thought they were male. There was a cat named Sam who’s greatest sin was not the delivery of a liter in my bed but delivering live field mice to Mom’s feet. And then there was poor Willie who, like us, was too stupid to distinguish whether she was male or female. By pre-pubescent ignorance, they remained male for all concerned.
We existed in a rumble, tumble paradise that was devoid of shoes in the summer and zipped coats in the winter when suddenly admitted into our company was an alien far too cumbersome for us to avoid. Welcome home Sue, good-bye nirvana.
Sue never knew the inconveniences she caused n orthe whole new set of instructions we had to live with. When Tom was born Mom and Dad had five small children and I suspect that they never did care if we employed Darwin’s basic laws to see if only the strong survive and we were allowed to go about our business unscathed. But for Sue, after a rug rat interregnum and a couple of years of relative obstetric calm, there were all sorts of demands on us– ‘quiet during nap time’, ‘stop making her cry’, ‘don’t throw her’. Oh, the constant instructions unwelcomed by our wax encrusted ears.
Because of Sue I watched more than my share of Sesame Street and then the Electric Company instead of the Rat Patrol, 12 O’Clock High and Hogan’s Heroes when I couldn’t be chased to homework or something healthier. Because of Sue I learned to change diapers and to feed a toothless blob some god awful green mush. And, I learned to read ‘Green Eggs and Ham’ in all of its voices (which my Son should thank her for).
So here it is, Sue, my first ever blog. Lets hope you haven’t ruined another good thing.
Sue ruined a perfectly good all male family. Her arrival on November 18, 1969 did not portend any great event – sure Joe Kennedy died and Cheryl Bachman (playmate Oct 1991) was born – so I have to believe that the devastation of the male dichotomy in our little household may have been the most significant event of the day. I can assure you that we have never been the same since.
Now I am certain that there are skeptics among you that can’t envision that there ever existed an all male paradise. Mom, you say, may have somehow broken this sexist line long before. Although I admit that she may have been a trend setter for some, for us wearing shorts and tight haircuts Mom was and is as tough as any. As the sole daughter of Walter and Lizbet, Mom earned her chops at a very early age. I can not remember which Uncle showed me the scar Mom gave them by swinging the porch swing into their exposed noggin (the Uncles were so tall to me at the time that it is tough to remember who was assaulted) but Mom’s only response to our subsequent accusation was that "he deserved it”. Even though she drank Tea and enjoyed a good read Mom fit well into our bubbling caldron of boyhoodness (I could have said testosterone but we were a little lacking in that department upon Sue's arrival).
Even our pets were male or at least we thought they were male. There was a cat named Sam who’s greatest sin was not the delivery of a liter in my bed but delivering live field mice to Mom’s feet. And then there was poor Willie who, like us, was too stupid to distinguish whether she was male or female. By pre-pubescent ignorance, they remained male for all concerned.
We existed in a rumble, tumble paradise that was devoid of shoes in the summer and zipped coats in the winter when suddenly admitted into our company was an alien far too cumbersome for us to avoid. Welcome home Sue, good-bye nirvana.
Sue never knew the inconveniences she caused n orthe whole new set of instructions we had to live with. When Tom was born Mom and Dad had five small children and I suspect that they never did care if we employed Darwin’s basic laws to see if only the strong survive and we were allowed to go about our business unscathed. But for Sue, after a rug rat interregnum and a couple of years of relative obstetric calm, there were all sorts of demands on us– ‘quiet during nap time’, ‘stop making her cry’, ‘don’t throw her’. Oh, the constant instructions unwelcomed by our wax encrusted ears.
Because of Sue I watched more than my share of Sesame Street and then the Electric Company instead of the Rat Patrol, 12 O’Clock High and Hogan’s Heroes when I couldn’t be chased to homework or something healthier. Because of Sue I learned to change diapers and to feed a toothless blob some god awful green mush. And, I learned to read ‘Green Eggs and Ham’ in all of its voices (which my Son should thank her for).
So here it is, Sue, my first ever blog. Lets hope you haven’t ruined another good thing.
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