It's All Make-believe

 

The facts we know and rely on are rooted solely in our perceptions.  We establish mental justifications and then act accordingly.  Until we can step out beyond our reality, and look back, we’ll never really know what is true. 

Those we engage as fact checkers operate between the same pages of the same books we’ve established.  Their statements are nothing more than a regurgitation of our beliefs.  How then are we to find our way home?    

Then there was the time I tried to get my dog to help me with this blog.  He was a beautiful Irish Setter, although I referred to him as my type setter.  He was a fine dog but our ideas on how the blog should look and what topics were appropriate never matched up.  He eventually quit.  Now he spends much of his time curled up by the fireplace, occasionally huffing at my lame humor.

 

It’s hard to tell, but he has that, “I told you so” look on his face most of the time.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Red Hat Ladies

 

I noticed how various groups create peculiarities that identify them as members of that group.  What got me thinking about that is the fact that I don’t eat fish.  Never have.  Right away that would prevent me from becoming Jewish or Catholic.   Lox and bagels sound fishy to me, and of course I’d never partake of Fish on Friday.  So, neither of those groups would want me as a member.

The Shriners are out just because I’d never fit into one of those tiny cars they drive around in parades.  Not to mention how I’d look wearing one of those hats. 

For lack of antlers, I’d have a hard time gaining access into the Moose, or Elks lodges and without any armor I’m guessing the Knights of Columbus would never invite me to their round table.  (Possibly the kids table, but I doubt it)

Because I always carry one or two pens with me, I tried joining a writer’s group.  They didn’t have any exams for me to take and never asked for an example of anything I had written.  They simply said, “OK, you’re in.”  I found that to be just a little depressing.  I never went back. 

I remember when I was young, I signed up to join the Boy Scouts.  I had no idea what they did or anything about them.  I do remember when they questioned me about knots, I naturally assumed they were referring to the knots in my stomach.  Obviously, I was wrong, as they gave me a strange look and all backed away from me.  

Over time I accepted the fact that I just shouldn’t belong to a group or organization.  So, without hat or antlers I stand here as Zobostic Corwin, but as you can see, I still carry my pens.  I am a group of one.

 

 

 

 

 

ZC

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

More Stray Thoughts

 

I noticed that as I grew, I got further and further away from my feet.  Initially, that didn’t seem to be an issue, but now that I’m 79 years away, reaching them is rather difficult.  So, I’m wondering if that was a very smart plan and what else might be worth examining?

 

Here's one.  The Doctor administers the yearly wellness check, which consists of him saying three words at the beginning of the appointment and at the end of our session I am to repeat those same three words.  That test tells him that I am fit to once again be released into the wild.  Considering for the moment that in order to get myself to the appointment, I got myself up, showered and shaved, had breakfast and then proceeded to drive my stick-shift through downtown traffic, obeying all the laws of the road while displaying the general courtesies to the other drivers.  Then, circled his building several times until a parking spot opened up, fed the correct change into the meter and once inside, signed his little clipboard and took a seat, never once commenting that he was running 40 minutes late, and because I remembered apple, chair and ball, I'm good to go?   

 

ZC