Strange Things Are Happening
I've just finished an interesting account on Colleen's blog about a guy named Carl whom she feels acted in a somewhat bizarre manner by routinely walking around barefoot in the snow. I got to thinking, however, that strange behavior is in the eye of the beholder and often makes perfect sense to the performer of the deed in question. here are a few personal examples:
(1) I was three. My grandmother's garage door had been left open and George (who was supposed to watch me) was doing something in the back yard. In the garage were a variety of different colored paint cans and some brushes. I thought the plain white garage was boring-looking and proceeded to redecorate it nicely with multiple hues. George returned. He seemed upset, possibly angry, with my exterior decorating choices. See, made sense to me, seemed strange to George.
(2) I was 14. There was on the New Milford green an olive-drab World War 11 Sherman tank displayed on a slab of concrete. This vulgar demonstration of militarism must have offended my sense of propriety, or maybe once againI just didn't like the boring color (see above). So some like-minded friends and I stayed up very late one night, snuck out, and painted the tank a very rosy pink. The next day several people seemed quite disturbed over the incident. They may have been in the American Legion, or maybe just didn't appreciate the feng shui. I overheard someone speculating on how strange the whole event was. Conversely, it made perfect sense to me.
(3) I was 18, a freshman at Yale. A group of us were playing a nice game of strip poker, when someone decided we needed to go out to get some fresh air. The problems in doing this were multiple, (a) the 9 of us (5 guys, 4 girls) had little or no clothing on, (b) it was November, (c) we were on the 4th floor and our path was a foot-wide ledge circling the building, and finally (d) the Shubert had just let out and the theater-goers looking up at us were definitely overly curious (like it was any of their business). Still, it seemed like a perfectly sensible decision at the time. The police and Dean Whiteman disagreed. I heard a policeman, shaking his head, describe us as "weird kids". I say chacon a son gout. That's what makes horse racing.
So I suggest we give Weird Carl (of the frozen feet) a pass on his behavior. Maybe his feet get hot easily. Maybe he's allergic to leather. Maybe he's making snow angels from the bottom up. I don't know, but as the optimistic old joke goes , "with all this sh-t around, there must be a pony here somewhere".
Later.
I've just finished an interesting account on Colleen's blog about a guy named Carl whom she feels acted in a somewhat bizarre manner by routinely walking around barefoot in the snow. I got to thinking, however, that strange behavior is in the eye of the beholder and often makes perfect sense to the performer of the deed in question. here are a few personal examples:
(1) I was three. My grandmother's garage door had been left open and George (who was supposed to watch me) was doing something in the back yard. In the garage were a variety of different colored paint cans and some brushes. I thought the plain white garage was boring-looking and proceeded to redecorate it nicely with multiple hues. George returned. He seemed upset, possibly angry, with my exterior decorating choices. See, made sense to me, seemed strange to George.
(2) I was 14. There was on the New Milford green an olive-drab World War 11 Sherman tank displayed on a slab of concrete. This vulgar demonstration of militarism must have offended my sense of propriety, or maybe once againI just didn't like the boring color (see above). So some like-minded friends and I stayed up very late one night, snuck out, and painted the tank a very rosy pink. The next day several people seemed quite disturbed over the incident. They may have been in the American Legion, or maybe just didn't appreciate the feng shui. I overheard someone speculating on how strange the whole event was. Conversely, it made perfect sense to me.
(3) I was 18, a freshman at Yale. A group of us were playing a nice game of strip poker, when someone decided we needed to go out to get some fresh air. The problems in doing this were multiple, (a) the 9 of us (5 guys, 4 girls) had little or no clothing on, (b) it was November, (c) we were on the 4th floor and our path was a foot-wide ledge circling the building, and finally (d) the Shubert had just let out and the theater-goers looking up at us were definitely overly curious (like it was any of their business). Still, it seemed like a perfectly sensible decision at the time. The police and Dean Whiteman disagreed. I heard a policeman, shaking his head, describe us as "weird kids". I say chacon a son gout. That's what makes horse racing.
So I suggest we give Weird Carl (of the frozen feet) a pass on his behavior. Maybe his feet get hot easily. Maybe he's allergic to leather. Maybe he's making snow angels from the bottom up. I don't know, but as the optimistic old joke goes , "with all this sh-t around, there must be a pony here somewhere".
Later.
posted by Papa Bill | 2:27 PM
3 Comments:
I once posed for a picture with my bathing suit on in the SNOW, but at least I had boots on!
No one has EVER asked me to pose in a bathing suit (with or without snow). Somehow no one seems to find that strange.
Hi Papa Bill,
This post of yours and a couple of others' posts inspired me to write about a couple of weird things I do.
And people are actually making the comment that I am not weird at all!
I am insulted.
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