I’ve Been Told….

Sunday morning, and I find myself surprised to sense my inner Baptist preacher clamoring for a bit of attention. It certainly has been a while….

He would just like to take a moment to remind us all that we are, as children, born into this world in a state of absolute purity and innocence. That seems to be our natural state of being, and that sadly, it generally doesn’t take very long for that inherent state of grace to be worn down and corrupted by something. Parental influence, siblings, XBoxes, the Disney channel ( I really have a thing about the damned Disney channel )…almost anything. And then, as we get older…the things that corrupt us become ever more complex.

It really is a jungle out there.

Some kids have a much better chance ( based on their environment ) of retaining some of that purity as they go along, but they will likely succumb to something, eventually. But with a good base and a  support system, they’ll manage to hold onto a few threads of that purity, and slowly, slowly…begin to work their way back. It may very well take a while, but those few threads are tough as hell, and will never surrender.

With that said, it seems entirely fitting for people of all ages to be walking around being fully aware of that tiny thread of purity in themselves that may have survived the onslaught. That, I believe, is where the heart of a true personality lies. Not in any of the myriad stages of corruption that we have to try to survive, but in the realization that you started out good, were drawn away through no initial fault of your own, and just want to get back on track while you still have time.

And there’s always time.

Ok. He’s done. He needs to do that every now and then. But let me tell you what triggered all that…

Yesterday, I was walking through the produce section of the local market and, as always, smiling to myself ( see ” Peaches” , under Olivia Stories, SecRag II ). I had to make a quick stop in the rest room, which is nearby. Another person entered shortly afterward, with a very small boy in tow; about age four, or so.

As I was stepping towards the sink, I noticed that the boy ( who was waiting impatiently for the parental figure ) was, as  four-year- olds always are, intrigued by everything else in the room. He couldn’t reach the  sink, couldn’t reach the towel dispenser ( which was broken anyway)…wanting to know what Dad was doing…( Dad wasn’t doing a particularly good job of watching him just then…)

I thought I would slow down a bit and be able to keep an eye on him until the parental unit was available.

So, I washed my hands…twice… and noticed the boy. His attention was riveted on me.

I was using the sink, and he couldn’t.

Quite a conundrum. You could actually see the issue playing through his mind. He couldn’t speak to the stranger, but…how did the sink thing work? I gave him a reassuring smile, but he would have none of that.

Thankfully, the parental unit emerged.

I now moved over to the air dryer, and Dad went to the sink. But now, the boy was riveted on me again…apparently, the air dryer was by far more amazing than the sink. How did that work?

I am ever appreciative of displays of childlike innocence…

The boy moved over to stand behind his father’s legs while he washed, and started bombarding him with questions. Dad…where did you go? What are you doing? Dad…what is that man doing?

No response from Dad.

So he pulls hard on Dad’s pants leg, finally gets his attention…points at me…and says…

” Dad! What is that old man doing?”

I actually turned, to see who he was referring to.

No one else there…


March 09, 2013; 1430 hrs. It is apparently official.

There’s a signpost up ahead… no, actually. I just went by it…it’s in the rear-view now. And somewhere, somehow…

Rod Serling is smiling.

But that’s OK. I still have a few threads that I’ve held onto all these years, and I’m trying to work my way back…to being more like a four-year-old.




Published in: on March 10, 2013 at 12:04 pm  Comments (1)  
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One CommentLeave a comment

  1. so you don’t believe in trans-timeline* communications? hell, you might need to (re)-read the manual (it’s in the trunk, under the old Year Books, and just above your old, worn copy of ‘Little Big Lifeform: where do kids come from and what do we do now?’
    You have seen the fabric of reality.
    No, not the actual fabric, more of a shadow cast by the words of your little protagonist… (better yet, in your case, think 60 cycle hum before the string is….struck.)
    I envy you the moment… the emotional content of the moment.
    The facts of it (this experience) are not the important part** it is the feeling in the stomache that matters.

    * aka trans-dimensional
    ** well, to you and the battering the words caused… some importance

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