Sunday, March 6, 2022

Think about it


 


Hayter’s article for March 6, 2022

Just think about it 

I need you to humor me. Right now I want you to take five seconds to look away from the newspaper and see the stuff around you. You don’t need to concentrate on anything. just let your eyes do whatever they normally do. But don’t get lost out there. You need to return in five seconds. Ready? – You’re gone. 

And, five. –Good. In those five seconds, something happened to your brain and you didn’t even notice. When you took your eyes away from the newspaper, a big chunk of your brain was no longer needed for reading and concentrating. Instead, it immediately took in 11 million bits of info per second on your surroundings. In other words, your noggin received 55 million bits of electrical impulses from every part of your body that has nerves. I’m doubting that your toenails are a part of the group.

            The info your brain received came mostly from your nose, ears,  eyeballs, and skin. The other parts of your body didn’t turn themselves off during that time or you would’ve passed out. However, now that you’ve returned to the newspaper, your brain is only taking in a mere 60,000 bits of info per second. Your brain receptors are channeling a lot of electricity trying to figure out what the Sam Hill I’m getting at. You can still breath and see, but that itch under your arm is not getting much brain time.  

            The stuff from your five-second experiment has been filed deep because your mind knows you don’t like boring stuff. Had you noticed a giant tarantula walking across the carpet, your nerve system would’ve been focused almost entirely on survival. Everything else is just gonna hafta wait. The bottom line, while in a state of spider sighting, your brain shuts down a lot of other stuff that does not merit even subconscious attention. And, yes, that can include your urinary tract.

            I doubt scientists just made this stuff up. They glued dozens of diodes on a person’s scalp, legs, stomach, underarms… you get the picture. And having them look at photos and videos. On occasion, they might wire them up and have 13 aides take each one on walks outside.

            Inside your skull are parts of your brain that control different body parts. Tell you what, reach back and point to the little place on your noggin where your neck meets your skull. Then go up about one inch. Got it? Okay, now you can stop pointing and return your hand to its proper place.

            How long does superfluous info stay in your brain? Some say it only leaves when your brain shuts down. You see, the electricity in your body is generated by chemical reactions? The process must take place in the appendix because my memory has been shot ever since I had mine removed.

            Of of this was meant to get you prepared for what’s coming. A busload of the files in your brain will not surface in your lifetime. There’s just too much of it. Some of it may trickle out when you’re dreaming. But, your encounters with family, friends co-workers, neighbors… are each cataloged in your brain. When your uncle didn’t reimburse you for his breakfast on October 9, 2004, that info is easy to retrieve. What color blouse your wife is wearing right now, was never filed in the first place. Scientists don’t know why that is.

            All of your experiences in life are tucked away in your brain and together they make up who you are. And, get this, your spouse, sons, daughters, grandkids, aunts, the people at work, your teachers… none of them know who you really are. Their brains automatically analyze what little they’ve witnessed about you, allowing them to compose a judgment of who you are – to them. For the teacher: “Ah, Betty Sue. Nice kid. Does her homework. Not crazy about the ring in her nose. Of course, if she takes it out, I won’t remember her name.” 

Each person sees you differently. None of them know who you really are. YOU don’t even know who you are. There are nutzoids out there who think they’re geniuses. They think they know more than you and can do everything better than you, yet they’re dumb as dirt. On the other hand, some people have no confidence whatsoever. They think they are idiots, and deserve to have the cruel creep that they married. Their memories of failure, relationships, embarrassments, losses… are filed at an easily accessible spot in their brains. These are two exaggerated examples of not knowing who you “really” are.

            Can these attitudes be changed? For some of us, counseling, medication, electric shock treatment, brain injuries… might help. Let me tell you this story. Some of you pretend you never heard it. --  I once knew a man I never cared for. He was crude as can be. Fairly proud of himself, too. It was all I could do to be around him. Well, he had a motorcycle accident several years back that required an operation on his brain. When he was finally released from the hospital, he was not the person that I remembered. He’s a friend to this day. Kind, thoughtful, moral, great sense of humor… While I believe that God had a hand in it, I believe He did it by keeping him alive after the wreck and causing some more pleasant experiences in his life to come out of hiding. 

            The brain is a wonderment is it not? One thing I’ve wondered for a good while is why it is that over 50 years ago, other guys didn’t see Kay Cross the way I did. Their brains did some very poor filing.  --  Beg your pardon? Why did I ask you to touch the back of your head, earlier? I don’t recal doing that. --  Enough of this. -- Next time.

end  

hayter.mark@gmail.com

 

Friday, March 4, 2022

Red Ryder BB Gun


MARK HAYTER                              936-537-0918                            hayter.mark@gmail.com

 

Hayter’s article for February 27, 2022 

‘Pa-thud -- Another Pumpkin Hit”

            BACK PORCH -- Good, you finally showed up. I want you to see this. Look yonder at the base of the big pine. No the one to the right of the opening. Work with me, people! – Okay, there at the base you’ll see a pumpkin. --  Good!

            Keep an eye on it while I reach behind you to get my Red Ryder 200 shot BB gun with no compass or sundial on the stock. There were only six of those made and they were for the “Christmas Story “movie. Hey, I was as disappointed as you. This is the adult Rider. That means it’s stretched to better fit manly arms. That’d be mine.

By the way, Kay got me this one for Christmas. I don’t remember what I got her, but it was just what she asked for. -- Can we get past this? --  Just stay where you are.  Nobody touch it. It might hit somebody in the noggin and I’ll get sued just like on the rooftop back when Judy missed a rung on the ladder. Well, no you didn’t actually sue me, but you wanted to. Can we move along?

Okay, Here’s the gun. See?  Our target is the pumpkin. Again, it’s at the base of the tree. Some of you are trying to ruin this for me. Now listen real hard. When you hear a “pa-thud”, you’ll know I hit the pumpkin. You will not see a chunk of pumpkin fly off because the thing is as hard as a Rhino’s rump. Pumpkins apparently take longer to rot than a lost Easter Egg. You could make shoes out of this thing.  

Okay, everybody quiet! Here goes. “Pa-thud!” Oh, yeah. That’s what I’m talkin’ about. One more time just to show you it wasn’t an accident. --“Pa”. Wait a minute. Obviously, there was no BB lined up at the firing place.  It sometimes does that. – It does, too. – Okay, here goes. ‘Pa-thud!” See? Cool. 

I may let you shoot it later, but for now, let’s enjoy the last cold spell of winter. I enjoy cold weather. Not a fan of the time between late spring and early fall. By the time August rolls around, I’ve got a serious case of the glooms. It’s no wonder that August is the only month without a holiday. For over 200 years the Congressional Calendar Committee has found nothing worth celebrating during the entire month of August. 

February, the shortest month of the year, has three holidays. We celebrate groundhogs, valentines, and Presidents. February is often the coldest month of the year. It has also been categorized by some as the cruelest month of the year. And February 17 is the cruelest day of the year. It may be because of the blizzards. The worst energy infrastructure failure in Texas history occurred during February 14-17 of last year. I don’t think it made the news, but my sister Jill was out of her house for 11 months, because of that freeze. Water pipes burst, causing her floor and ceiling to flood. 

I’m now going to drop my griping and make this an honorary moment for something that will not be with us tomorrow Yes, Beau, you guessed, it’s my socks. I am wearing a pair of heavy woven hiking socks that I bought for the Hayter Brothers Rocky Mountain hike back in ’87. I got about five articles out of the trip. I only mentioned my socks twice. Look at these socks! These are the warmest socks known to man. This man. I fully thought I’d be wearing them when they buried me along the trail. But, thanks to Big Al, we survived. However, since Al was the one who insisted we make the trip, I’m still upset with him. 

The only things I have left from the experience are these socks and a pair of hiking boots. I outgrew my 48 pocket hiking jacket, 12 pocket shirt, and seven-pocket pants long ago. The only underwear I had left were the ones I was wearing at the end of the trail, and I was lucky to have those. 

These socks, my boots, and a few sad pictures are the only remaining evidence of the debacle. I’m surprised we four Hayter brothers still talk to one another. I have worn these socks and my boots off and on for the past 35 years. Do you know how that’s possible? The boots and socks were top of the line. Plus, for the last 50 years, my feet haven’t grown. God made it possible for my ears, nose, and waist to grow. Not my feet. 

So, I’m keeping the boots and letting go of the socks… only because Kay won’t let me keep them on the table by the front door. --“Welcome! See my socks?” --  Kay is way too practical. By the way, each sock has a  hole in the heel. Thus the saying “Old as a hole in the heel.” The boots? I only use them as work boots and snow boots, so they’re practically good as new. However, I felt it fitting to bury the socks during the last cold spell of the winter of ’22. By tomorrow morning they shall both be gone. 

But, not the pumpkin. That buddy is going to sit there until this BB gun starts making a “splat” sound instead of a “pa-thud”. All right, I’m getting a little cold out here, so everybody get in line and wait your turn to shoot my Red Ryder. You’re aiming at the pumpkin, nothing else… except maybe an armadillo. One of those things has been digging all over the yard. I don’t know what it’s looking for, but it sure isn’t pumpkins.   

end      

hayter.mark@gmail.com