I Finally Get It

I'm now 61 but I still remember when I was a kid there were a handful of parents who did not want me around their children. One summer evening, a parent visited our front door and angrily proclaimed that he did not want to see me around his son… ever again! I think the father’s son had come home for supper late and dusty. When I was in my youth, that is how I often traveled; late and dusty.

When I became a teenager, there were parents who forbid I keep company with their children. I remember a high school classmate, who will go nameless, informing me that his mother no longer wanted me to visit, and I should stay away. If memory serves me correctly, we had taken some photos of each other skillfully sliding our cars around on a dirty road. It wasn’t necessarily dangerous behavior, just out-of-bounds behavior in the eyes of most adults. Anyway, my friend’s mother got wind of the activity and I was banished from the property.

Many decades later I still do similar shenanigans. A few weeks ago I was in the bleachers at a sporting event. I decided I wanted some popcorn so I visited the vendor in the mezzanine. As I was returning to my seat, inching my way down the crowded row with my popcorn in my hand, I acted as though I were suddenly about to lose my balance and on the verge of toppling over the patrons in the lower rows. A few people gasped in fear while others reached out in a desperate effort to stabilize me. But of course there was never any need to fret. As if by magic, I suddenly regained my balance and continue unfazed down the row.

This is an old stunt of mine, but I still like to bring it out now and then. Needless to say, I was always in complete control and in absolutely no danger of losing my balance. But you couldn’t tell it by the clumsy –but controlled- wobble. This sort of behavior annoys Diana, my significant other. I usually get a dejected headshake and the question, “Why do you do that stuff?”

I usually grin, shrug, and reply, “For personal amusement.”

I bought a cellphone a year or so ago. Now and then I call out on it, but I’ve actually received only one or two calls. Anyway, I’ve recently discovered that it has a feature where a person can record sound, including voice. Not only can the cellphone record a voice, but the voice can be used as a ringtone. The possibilities for low-grade fun seemed endless. What I ended up doing was sitting in my car in a remote parking lot and in a screeching, obscenity-laden voice, told myself to answer the phone. It went something like, "Answer the phone, you &%#@&&%@% mudda%^#%#!" When that was completed, I then selected the shrieking to be used as my ringtone. With the work done, I then clicked an option where I could listen to my ringtone without actually being called. Yep, the cellphone suddenly came alive, blasting the collection of obscenities over and over until the phone was supposedly answered.

Keeping in mind that this is me saying this; it was funny. I couldn’t help but to chuckle at this obscenity-spewing cellphone. Splendid, if not slightly demented humor, I thought. Then, all at once, my laughter ceased and it hit me. Who does this stuff!? What goofball thinks about having a home-made, obscene ringtone for their cellphone, let alone actually putting in the effort to make such a ringtone? For perhaps the first time ever I was seeing myself from the perspective of some other adult. As I stared at my cellphone I suddenly realized why so many of those parents preferred that I be elsewhere, anywhere but with their child. Their sentiments suddenly made sense. I’m not saying anyone is right or wrong, but finally, at long last, I get it.

I’ll tell you, sometimes a personal revelation can be something of a bummer, especially one where you finally comprehend why you were something of an outcast. It’s not the first time I’ve had a moment of negative self-discovery, but this one might be the most stinging. Truth is, I could use a pick-me-up. Maybe someone will call to cheer me up. Heck, just hearing that ringtone would help.