BLITHERING, BUMBLING, AND RAMBLING #11

IN OTHER WORDS

There was a time, many a time, when my job at the police department involved contact with people that were crazy, sometimes with a capital C and an exclamation point at the end.  We were counseled to not use the word crazy, because it was labeling.

So when we talked to the public and heard the description of someone as being crazy, we would ask. “How so? What is it about the person that makes you think that?”  And that was a Pandora’s Box opening line, where we got to hear about every oddity and bizarre behavior the public thought the person had.

Now, once you got the input, you shared it with your co-workers.  You usually did it right away.  Nobody wanted to run into a person who thought they were from another planet, without a warning label.

Charlie, my mentor and friend in the department, was never at a loss for a dialogue to cover it.  While the rest of the guys would use simple one word descriptions, Charlie had a way to phrase it, that you would always remember.

For example:

-She wants to be next to her phone because God’s gonna call soon.  She says he has her number.

-The guy started talking to his invisible friend.  They got into a pretty good argument.

-That guy is a charter member of the Flying Fruitcake Factory.  And his girlfriend wants the application form.

-He says he’s not nuts.  But I’m sensing some kind of walnut-pistachio-psychotic combo.

-The guy told me the voices in his head told him to come here.  I told him I know how he feels,  they told me too.

Yeah, I really miss Charlie.  He could make an encounter with a mental patient sound far more entertaining than it was.  And from his descriptions, you never forgot what you were dealing with.  I mean, after all, how could you ever forget “walnut-pistachio-psychotic combo?”  Labeling?-  well, yeah.

FROM THE MOUTHS OF BABES

When my kids were small we had rain in epic proportions.  Our street, started to back up at the drains.  This was shortly after Deb had gone to work, and I was home with the kids.  Kari, who was 4 at the time, was supposed to be taken to preschool that day.  The water level was across the sidewalk and a few feet up the driveway.

So I told Kari that we were gonna try to get her to preschool.  She looked me in the eye and said “Are you SURE Dad?”  I explained that we would go very slowly, along the sidewalk, we only had to go about 20 yards before we were out of the water.  “I don’t know…..” she said.  So I put Erin in her car seat and Kari got in, and we slowly inched toward the water.  

Kari was worried, from the second the front wheels hit the water.  Erin, not really understanding since she was only about 7 months old, sat there passively.  It’s OK, I reassured her, we only have to go to right over there.  ‘Ooooooh, Dad” she said, “we’re not gonna make it!”  Hearing the panic in Kari’s voice,  Erin started to kick her feet and wave her arms, and say “Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!! “. Both continued to moan “ooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh” for about 10 seconds more, and then we were on dry road.

“We made it, Dad!” Kari said, as if we’d survived a sinking ship.  At preschool she told a couple other kids how her dad drove through water that was all the way up to the doors!  The kids said” wooooow!  I explained to the lady at preschool who checked us in that there was a fair amount of exaggeration and that the ride through only lasted about 15 seconds, tops.  She was amused, saying that kids often make it sound like you’re in the water next to Noah’s Ark.

Later that day, the street drained, and the sun was out, I went for a walk with Erin in the stroller.  I stopped and looked at the drain that had been the source of the problem.   I pointed to it and said “Drain”, figuring this was a teachable moment.  She pointed to the right and said “Tee”.   Looking where she was pointing I saw a large willow in the yard of my neighbor, two doors down.  Yes, I said, that is a tree.   She smiled, and I started to push her stroller down the sidewalk.  And then it hit me……

A willow tree!  I walked back to where the drain was.  I turned from the drain 180 degrees and it was a direct line to it.  More importantly, from behind the willow tree, in a straight line, about 30 yards away, was the creek  it drained into.   Erin, I thought, how did you know?

(That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, 7 months old and already explaining things to her father)

I had some trees removed from my yard several months earlier, and the tree guys had told me that the willow tree I was taking out of the side yard  has long, nasty, tough, invasive roots, and eventually those roots will wreck havoc on your plumbing, sidewalks, patios AND DRAINS!!!    Aaaaaaawwwwwgggggggg!!

Seeing as the creek sits lower than the drain, it now made sense why the drain couldn’t function. I saw a guy from public works later and told him about the drain clog and willow issue.  He waved me off, without even looking up, saying,no, the creek backed up and everything was fine now, don’t worry about it.  Uh huh, yeah I AM worried about it. Because if the drain doesn’t, like ,  D-R-A-I-N, dude, I gotta calm down two toddlers that don’t understand why we need a boat to cross the street.

He assured me it was a one time happening, and that was that.  I went to public works  and told a supervisor about the problem.  He thought I might have a good point, and said he’d get together with the director of the department and get back to me.    He got back to me  2 months later, and told me that the director said it was a good idea to clear the drains, which they do next season.  Next season?

Yes, he said, the rainy season was behind us now, they felt.  And in late summer, he promised, they’d come out and clear ALL the drains, including mine.  Well, uh, ok.  Apparently, late summer is November to Public Works, because a few days before thanksgiving I saw them out by the drain.  Elated by their arrival, I went out to thank them.  Couldn’t do it. Same guy who had told me the creek backed up a year earlier was out there, looking for leaves and brush in the drain grate.  I asked when they  would clear the drain.  “Just did” he said.  All he had “cleared” was a handful of leaves and some twigs from the gutter.  

About 2 weeks later, it rained, and the street flooded (just picture the adjectives in my head). My driveway backed up, and Kari, who was now in kindergarten, again wondered, will we make it across?  As we were crossing the high water Kari asked me why there was so much water on our block, but nobody else’s.   “ I thinks it’s the willow tree”, I said.  ‘Why?” She asked.  So I told her about the trees roots, its path to the creek, and where the drain was probably blocked.

“Somebody needs to get rid of that tree”, she said. I remember thinking at the time, how my baby girl had pointed out the problem, and my kindergartner had figured out the solution.  And yet…

My neighbors, three of them, filed lawsuits about the flooding that year that literally went through their houses.  A bunch of lawyers got together and reached an eventual settlement.  Part of that settlement  was, bringing in city equipment to clear the drains.

Sooooooo, now two years later, they cleared the drains , and were shocked and appalled when the one that backed up our street for the previous two years was  filled with————WILLOW ROOTS!!! 

Two weeks after they cleared the drains, my neighbor’s willow tree mysteriously keeled over in his yard.  Hmm, do the math.  A few months later, it rained.  It drained. Traffic from my house flowed freely, and dry .  Who woulda thought?  Well , two little girls, who I thought just might someday become the Directors of Public Works or the CEO’s of Roto- Rooter.  Funny thing is, what they remember most about it is when Dad drove them in his little red truck, under water, for “a thousand miles” to preschool.   

CAN AND DO

I was looking for a recipe and found one online that also had a YouTube video to show how it worked.  Great, I thought.  A visual aid usually helps eliminate most gaps in description.  Usually. 

So in watching the video, it was 16 minutes of narrative while the baker did a variety of things.  The written recipe attached to it, took 2 minutes and 45 seconds to read, including suggestions, alternatives, and the complete list of ingredients.  Right.  I really tried to focus on the video, but couldn’t help but notice how the baker liked to talk about a fair amount of stuff that wasn’t in the recipe.  Ok, those who can, do.  Those who can’t…….well, some of them make videos.

I went ahead and made the recipe,  and it came out pretty good.  But like all critics do, I muttered about the time involved in a short process, with way too much narrative.    Much like the weather lady on TV who is constantly showing pictures and videos of her cat, I find it curious that she doesn’t understand that her rapid fire spiel on the weather forecast would be much more understandable to us listeners if she would speak more for clarity, since after her cat videos, she only has 20 seconds left to describe the weather.  Just picture an Auctioneer shouting out weather info.  It’s like that, but after a cat video.    Oddly though, you may not remember whether it’ll be windy tomorrow, but you will be able to recall the collar the cat was wearing, and how it lounged on the sofa.

Getting back to the recipe video, the one thing I like about them is that if you miss something, you can play it over again.    Which I did, because very little of it SHOWED baking.   The one I watched, well, the baker that made it could best be described as being in dire need of a cat.  You may not remember all the steps to baking, but you sure did remember the lime green apron and the 1950’s style hairdo of the baker.