A backward peek.

Hayter for Feb 19, 2023

“Feel free to burn after reading”

        Have you ever read the book “Burn After Writing”? I haven’t either. The book was a gift from my nephew Clint, who is the son of my kid brother, Big Al. Clint looked at the title of the book and all of the blank pages and thought it would be perfect for me. A thoughtful man, my nephew.

        “Burn After Writing” was contrived by Sharon Jones. What Ms. Jones has created is a book of personal questions that the holder of the book is supposed to answer. It’s one of few books that you’re encouraged to write in.

 Since the questions do not follow any particular order, the book is more of a non-sequential diary. The four chapters in the burn book are The Past, The Present, The Future, and My Legacy. I can’t see myself getting through The Past.

 In the intro to the first chapter, Sharon J writes: “Maybe you can’t change the past, but the way you remember it is never the same twice. Every time we remember something, we relive it from a different camera angle. We always reinvent our history to suit the present need. Now let’s do the opposite. Try to find new storylines in the fragments of your own history that will recreate your relationship to the present. Only you know what they are.”

         Her suggestion is going to make this harder than I’d like it to be. Regardless, let’s turn the page. – We’ve got seven questions here. I’ll be lucky if I cover three.  Each question is short and leaves plenty of room for me to write my response.

#1) “My earliest memory”: It was of my big brother Dennis and me playing outside in our dirty shorts (occasionally underwear) waiting for the school bus to let off our sister Lynda and brother Larry. They were both in junior high, and were the only ones who got dropped off on the unpaved portion of Spencer Road in Pasadena.

        As soon as she stepped off the bus, Lynda would divide her books up and ask Dennis and me if we would mind carrying them home for her. She knew that’s why we always waited for the bus, but she made us feel important by asking us for help.

Larry had Daddy’s old lunch kit and a book or two, but he didn’t trust his two dirt-faced brothers with anything. The attitude was “You’re embarrassing me.” Even back then, I could understand his reasoning.

        I’ve mentioned before about Lynda passing away in the Alzheimer wing of an old hospital in Harris County. Near the end of her life’s journey, she didn’t know anyone, but she still managed to smile when we came to visit. I remember telling you about the time when Lynda could no longer talk or smile She would just lay in bed and stare. During my last visit, I sat on the floor next to her bed and started singing “Softly and Tenderly, Jesus is calling—“ At that point, Lynda sang, “Calling for you and for me.” -- I cried like a child.

        That is a blessed memory, and recalling it always hurts like all get out. So, let’s look at another question.

#2 “As a child, I dreamed of becoming…:” That’s easy. I wanted to be the Lone Ranger, but  I couldn’t because Dennis had already called dubs. So I’d have to be Tonto, who as an Indian got little respect and very few lines. -- Kimosabe, my rear.

# 3 “When I look into the past, what do I miss the most?”: That’s a tough one. It’s either “Soupy Sales” or Daddy taking us to the drive-in theatre. Soupy Sales was the best thing on TV, but going to the drive-in was the best family outing. Mom would pop a grocery bag full of popcorn, and make a jug of Koo-lade. There were four of us in the backseat munching on popcorn and drinking bad punch. The car would always need a thorough cleanup after visiting the drivein.

When the eats were gone, we’d run to the front of the building where the projector shot the ray of film onto the screen. When we weren’t running around, we’d actually watch the movie, too

# 4 “My childhood described in one word”:  Scary

        # 5 “Posters I had on the wall growing up”: None.

        # 6 “The single most profound act of kindness that I will never forget”: I have been blessed with several, but here’s the first one that came to mind. In 1970, I graduated from SFA with a degree in Forestry. I had been working for the Texas Forest Service in District 6 as a forester.

        Unfortunately, working as a forester for two years, I discovered that I really didn’t enjoy the job. I was just not the outdoors-man I hoped to be. So, with Kay’s support, I decided to quit my job and go back to college for a MA Degree that would allow me to teach any subject that falls under the umbrella of Social Studies.

        All the while, I had my doubts about going back to school. What if I started teaching, and found out I didn’t like it. Would I quit, just like I did the Forest Service?

        Well, one weekend Kay and I drove down to Pasadena from Huntsville to see the family. Shortly after we arrived Dad told me he wanted to show me something out in the garage. It turns out, he had made me a desk out of a couple of hollow-core closet doors and some particle board. It was the nicest desk I’d ever seen. More than that, it was Dad’s way of blessing me for deciding to be a teacher.

        When I retired from teaching, I decided to give Dad’s desk to my nephew Clint, who gave me the “Burn After Writing” book. He not only gifted me the book, but he also gave me an ending for the article. – Now I’ve only got 124 pages to go.

end

hayter.mark@gmail.com

 

Killer bed

 

Hayter for Feb 12, 2023

Attack of the King Size Bed”

        I have gotten myself into some really tight places, but nothing like last night. While trying to repair the motor on our adjustable twin king-size bed, I ended up sideways on the floor between the headboard and the box springs. I didn’t even know it was possible.

        My awkward wedged position apparently didn’t look all that frightening to Kay. She was checking on my progress by standing by the side of the bed, asking, “Darling, do you want me to try the remote control now?”

        My situation started with the remote control. After 12 years of operating perfectly, the bed-frame refused to follow the orders from the remote. The batteries were practically new, but the head of the bed refused to budge.

        Being the eager one, Kay was all ready for the head part of the mattress to start going up. Had it, I could have been severed from sternum to gall bladder. All the while, my shoulder was pressing against the floor and my right jaw was being dislocated by my elbow.  

        What to do? I could ask Kay to get Michael, our next-door neighbor who is good with computers. I thought someone technical would be just the person I needed. Or, perhaps Kay could call 911 and tell them that her husband needed one of those jaws-of-life things.”

        Both scenarios came with a price. -- Embarrassment. -- I assure you that Michael would laugh his rear off before trying to help. The jaws of death guy would first take a picture of me, and give the excuse,  “Sir, the photo will help me write my report.”

        I seldom ask for help until I’ve considered all other options. Kay is much smarter than I am, but it takes her too long to plan things. It takes me two seconds, tops. So, what could I possibly do to a bed that had me wedged between the headboard and box springs? Where are Laurel and Hardy when you need them?

The bed that tried to kill me was the second bed Kay and I ever bought. Our first bed was Kay’s bed. After marriage, we hauled it to our unfurnished apartment. I told Uncle Ray that the bed came with his daughter. His response was, “Hey, how about taking Tracy too?” I loved my father-in-law.  

Kay and I slept on her bed for a couple of decades before moving it to the guest room of our next house. We swapped it out with a brand new Queen Size bed. And mattress. Our first new mattress! A great bed, the Queen. Right now it’s in our guest room. So, if you ever have to spend the night, it’s the bed you’ll be sleeping on. Fortunately, we were very careful with our mattresses. Kept it clean and cootie-proof. We didn’t want to freak out any overnight visitors. Not all of ‘em, anyway.

It was 12 years ago when we bought the adjustable bed that tried to kill me. While I hope to die in that bed, I didn’t want to die because of the bed. Who would?

By the way, we gave Kay’s old bed away. I don’t remember who the recipient was. That’s the way I prefer it. Whoever it was, likely gave it to someone else who is sleeping on a 65-year-old mattress. A good mattress will last that long if not abused. It seems I read that somewhere.

        While all of this has been fascinating stuff, let’s go back to me being trapped in the fearful under-workings of the giant bed. All I was trying to do was to check the doohickies that make the bed frame raise and lower. Perhaps there was a loose wire or a throw switch. Shirly, no one would think to put an emergency switch on the bottom of the bed frame. I mean “Surely

        The only thing working in my favor during the horrible ordeal was the fact that Kay had dust mopped the floor beneath the bed before I got wedged. Other than that it was “Death on the Tile”… I mean Vinyl Plank.

        How long was I trapped? I don’t know, during tragedy, time doesn’t flow normally. What I remember was Kay asking if I wanted any popcorn. I said, “Thanks, darling, but I fear I’ll make a mess down here.”

        Eventually, after discounting every escape scenario I said a prayer. “Father, please don’t let it end like this. When my time comes, let me be either while I’m sleeping or saving someone in a bad situation in a place easy to get to.” I’ve always believed that if God didn’t have a sense of humor, He would’ve dismissed me long ago.

        In answer to my prayer, I was able to locate my left foot, a fete that helped me find my right. It was just like they belonged together. As soon as both walking appendages were in place, I thought it a good time to stand and extract myself from the non-adjustable behemoth. Then with all my strength I gave a mighty tug, then Kay yelled out, “Don’t mess up the rug!” (To be read to the tune of Big John)

        I’ll never know how I came out of that trap with my nose in place. In fact, I wasn’t all that messed up. The bed? Well, it’s pretty much in the same location. Kay asked me if I was ready to call the adjustable bed repair-person.

        I said, “No, sweet pea, it’s your turn. You always do better on the really tough jobs. – Before I put this episode to sleep, let me ask that you email me if you know a reclining bed repairman. I’ll give the info to Kay. She’ll know what to do with it. – That’s it. Move along people. Nothing to see here. Until next time.

end

hayter.mark@gmail.com

 

Weird Science

 

Hayter for Feb 5, 2023

“You’ve gotta take your hat off to Sea Spiders”

        I’ve made no secret of the fact that I should’ve been a scientist. I generally skim news stories for movies that may have just come out, goings on in the NFL, and scientific discoveries.

        Yep, the country missed out on a pretty good scientist. The major obstacle in my way was my lousy grades in all of my high school and university science classes. Chemistry? I had to learn stupid formulas for stuff I’d never even stepped in.

        Biology? I had to dissect a worm. That doesn’t do any good to mankind? When my big brother Dennis took biology he got to dissect a cat. I never reached the level of cutting open any type of Felis Catus. 

        All of my intellectual limitations aside, I really liked science. Still do. That’s why I was so taken aback by the headline, “Sea spiders can regrow their anus.” Forget the anus part, I never knew there was any such thing as a sea spider.

Now that I know spiders are living in the depths of the ocean, I am in no way surprised that they can regrow their rear ends. The fact that they can live in the ocean, indicates to me that they can pretty much do whatever they want…except live on land.

The one thing that raised my curiosity was how scientists discovered the regrowing of body parts of oceanic arachnids. Did scientists take turns diving to the ocean floor in search of rear-less sea spiders?  “Well did you find any this time, Harold?”  --  “No, all spiders had anuses intact. And during my examination of them, some of ‘em started laughing at me. I’m not going down there again. I suggest we capture a few of ‘em and amputate the butts off of ‘em. See how they like that!

The thing is, neither one of us would’ve known any of this, had it not been for the title of the article. You see, when I’m looking for something to read, I always look at the title first. I know some of you go straight to the second sentence, but that’s not the way I work

So, I’m skimming article titles online, and nothing was doing it for me. But, this one stopped me in my seat… had I been jogging it might have stopped me in my tracks. – “Sea spiders can regrow their anus.”

That immediately caught my attention, because I thought the word “anus” when referring to the body part of several spiders would need to be pluralized. I assumed that referencing the rear ends of all Sea Spiders would require the plural of “rear end”.

I’m pretty sure many of you don’t like to see or speak the word “anus”. I’m not all that excited about it either. One of my biology professors used the word a lot. And, let’s face it, I was almost a scientist myself.

It turns out that I thought the article boring. It involved a bunch of scientific terms that turned me off.  But, I was interested enough to find out what other animals can regrow body parts. I already knew that lizards could. But, didn’t know for sure if all lizards could. – Some can, some can’t.

Earthworms? Don’t get me started. If push came to shove, an earthworm could turn its anus into a head. For whatever reason, God gave the earthworm some serious leverage.

An alligator can regrow part of its tail. The skin and cartilage, but not a whole tail. And especially not a hotel. The problem is, alligators can’t regrow tail bones. Few of us, can. Without bones in its tail, an alligator would be laughed out of the swamp.

But, if you want to know the most adaptive creature on the planet -- it’s the salamander. Those things can regrow a leg, tail, skin… even their tongue, assuming they have one. They can even change skin color to the color and shade of whatever object they’re sprawled out on. Now, that’s a magical creature.

Kind of like cats. I imagine a cat can do the same thing. I’ve never studied felines much because I didn’t want to. So, I’m not sure of their limitations. But, I will fight and die for your right to not only read about cats, but own one. However, even if cats can regrow their tails, I’ll bet they can’t do it while living at the bottom of the ocean like sea spiders.

Before you leave, let me give you the topic of my next science-related article. -- “Scientists say the universe is hotter than it should be.” That title obviously brings up more questions than Sea Spider bottoms.

As of right now, the farthest galaxies we’ve been able to detect with the Hubble telescope are 13 billion light years away. With our new “James Webb Telescope we’ll likely be able to see more than twice that distance. How much further does the universe go? Forever?

Yet, scientists have the audacity to tell us that the “Universe” is too warm. I guarantee you that more parts of the universe are getting colder than hotter. I’ll explain it to you the next time I’m really digging for something to write about.

Hey, I’ve read a lot about space and have seen a bunch of movies about it. In fact, I should’ve been an astronomer. And, I would’ve been, but the math was way over my head.

end

hayter.mark@gmail.com