It is hard to beat non-verbal communication. Consider your standard issue hug - - it has expression within it that is beyond our vocabulary.
A hug by someone 10 times your size - - well, it’s even better, with such features as an ocean of arms and chest, that cozy corner under mom’s chin inside the curve of her neck. It’s the comforting aromas of a grandfather’s shirt or cologne. Time is held at bay. Dissolved into nothingness are all those upsetting elements; again one can know and feel the world is a good place to be.
Giving a hug to someone 1/10th your size is a quantum leap better than the same done to a person of similar dimension as yourself. In one fell swoop, you get to engulf their entire being. Like a super hero who can change dimension, you become protector, consoler, a human blanket and cocoon whisking them away from all that is troubling.
The era for this is fleeting – all too quickly the recipients transition into larger frames, into stages where things are explained more often in words than gestures. The supply of comfort and encouragement is increasingly timebound, in part to groom the younger ones to know how to enter back into the fray. Until one day in the future where the former recipients, despite having no memory of the good actions enjoyed during their infancy, will reverse roles to comfort a new flock of tiny beings.
Connecting...
Abe Pachikara, Copyright 2004
I figure in about 8 months, it will be time to track the next incoming big day.
Finally Six Years Old...
Abe Pachikara, Copyright 2009 (click for larger image)
Sidd followed suit in a somewhat expected, “monkey see, monkey do” fashion
Thank you Delta.
Captain Paul... Captain Sidd
Abe Pachikara, Copyright 2009 (click for larger image)
There is something unnerving yet spell-binding about the non-complacency of people when they are drunk, particularly in a group.
Back in my East Lansing days, Mikey, Jim and I would occasionally sojourn up to the Windy City and stay at Grady’s palatial 3rd floor flat (we are talking 3,000 square feet, 4 BR, 4 bathrooms in an indestructible grand building). On one of those trips, we joined a Christmas party I remember well.
Two guys at the party who were proud of their wrestling pedigree (and a bit drunk) got into a well meaning wrestling match, feeling the need to represent their high school names (to the entertainment of a few others.) They slammed into Grady’s king sized waterbed at one point, creating a small rupture. Not a big tear, so not a big problem; literally a contained one, as the mattress sat in a liner that sat in a wooden frame. But 50+ lubricated onlookers simply could not ignore this. It needed a “NOW” answer.
Someone did actually attach a hose to the mattress’ main drain hole, hang it out the window and let the water siphon out using gravity. A simple, dry answer, brilliant given the situation, but slow. Hard to demonstrate progress to all the people watching. Drunks want action, now.
After 10 minutes the hose had steadily drained perhaps 2 gallons of 1,000 out the window but the onlookers had drank another 25 beers and arrived at a clear conclusions: slow answers are not good enough. No way.
A “tiger team” of savants had a better idea: pass the mattress out one of the 3rd floor windows to the driveway below. It will: more visually show success; use the energy of at least 15 people; and “solve the problem” in a few minutes, right? A much better idea. Disregard the weight a king size waterbed, the collateral damage to the carpeting, the difficulty in just getting it out of the frame, or the cost of fixing vs replacing a king size mattress they were not paying for anyway. ACTION = SMART.
Even before the team of Einsteins had pulled the mattress out of the frame, Mikey in all his insouciance said, “hey mush head, let’s get a good view from the next window , this is amazing!” And it was. Weird visions came to mind: here were 15 people hell-bent on teaching a baby blob to walk. Initially, getting the mattress up and thru the window’s opening was tough going. But it became less resistant as it's own gravity drew it out into the frigid winter night, slithering out on its own weight.
Unfortunately, no one had “looked down” from the window for anything below. So it was with horror that we watched as this large creature hurtled downward, indiscriminately ripping out the power and telephone lines for the 1st and 2nd floor flats. At each level the mattress met with a burst of electricity as cables were ripped from the building. Building lights flashed dead on the 2nd, then the 1st floor. Finally, the mattress sprawled on the floor, a dead blobbish creature, while the electrical cables writhed around, momentarily arcing electricity and then going dead. (To make matters worse, the 2nd floor unit’s new owner had just moved in that day).
"Oh shit, you guys, oh shit" was the basic reaction three floors up.
People’s true character shines thru in times of conflict. And clearly, the party goers were seasoned pros. “Hide the evidence” was the call to action. "Hey let's just chop it up and throw it in the different dumpsters, all that's left is a bunch of water in the morning." Without any more discussion a dozen single minded partiers raced to the kitchen, then brandishing the knife of choice but without waiting to don coats for the numbing January air they thundered down the stairs, out to the alleyway and hacked the mattress and its patent-pending “wave-neutralizer” filler into pieces. It was a bizarre scene. At the time impressive for their speed and pragmatic approach. But now looking back it's more chilling memory. The tossed the mattress’s “remains” into dumpsters across the nearby buildings, and the came back in with proud grins for solving things so fast. And the water, well it blended into the snow and ice. What people don’t find cannot cause problems, right?
A few mins after the party has resumed a knock emerged from the door. Brian was summoned as one of the hosts, the music was muted. "Hi I just moved to the 2nd floor and my power just died - any idea why?" came the question from the new tenant. "Hmmm, gosh I wish I could help, would like you like to join us for some food or beer?" replied Brian in his trademark helpful manner. His gambit worked, the tenant declined as it was late for either but used the phone to contact CIPS.
I came away with two observations: perhaps what had transpired is a version of what must occur more often than we care to believe in terms of impatience and alcohol; in this case, the drunk cohort iterated two different solutions, from a better, slower one to a faster, much much dumber one.
Around the time I turned 15, I came to notice things I truly enjoyed, carefully measure how much had transpired, and for better or for worse, assess how much was “remaining.”
The halfway mark was a wistful moment. All the more reason to be in the moment, burn the candle at both ends. If only I could stop things completely for just a while. Do we really need to go home now?
…only 12 more days left in this trip... Only 5 1/2 weeks left in summer vacation... Man, it is Sunday morning already – just one day left in this weekend... I recall measuring everyday of the 20 I joyously lollygagged in Koh Samui back in 1989, and the wistful sense as I neared the last day...
Funny how when you are young, time is abundant but awareness of this resource is lacking. As you get older, the awareness becomes acute, but the supply dwindles, eh?
I think that is why the movie Cinema Paradisio struck such a personal cord. When Salvatore watches the reel of outtakes, it recalls the insouciant, playful ways of his unencumbered childhood.
Dear Lord, do I act as if I am beyond the “halfway mark” and take advantage of the time, talents and treasure at my fingertips?
