We’re having a heat wave in Saint Louis right now.  Triple digit temperatures with heat indexes nearing 120 degrees.  When people complain about the heat around here, you often hear other people say, “It’s not the heat; it’s the humidity”.  We actually make excuses for the weather – like somehow the heat doesn’t mean to be so hot; “if it just weren’t for that darn humidity!”

How often do we all make excuses (or allowances) for other people’s bad behavior or bad manners or bad mood?  I used to make excuses for my kids all the time – “he’s tired” or “she didn’t mean to…” or “he’s just being a boy”.  And we make excuses for bad adult behavior, too – “everybody knows not to talk to her before she’s had her coffee”.  Often women will make excuses for their husbands – “he doesn’t know how to do anything around the house”.  REALLY?  Doesn’t know or doesn’t want to know?

My point is that we seldom hold people accountable for their actions.  If someone behaves badly there MUST be a reason – something is beyond their control.  Or maybe if I really took the time to figure out what was bothering them, then I could help.  Or perhaps I just misunderstood what they said or did, etc., etc.  I have a friend that CONSTANTLY makes allowances for everyone.  She has such a good heart and is so trusting that she always believes in the goodness of others.  I used to joke that in High School she was probably voted ‘Most Likely to Date a Serial Killer’.  She shames me with her kindness!

Now I know that I tend to be a little cynical at times and I might sometimes jump to the conclusion that someone is just being a lout.  But really, I think that sometimes some people are just being a–holes.  I don’t know; maybe they just like being jerks.  But I for one refuse to accept boorish behavior.  Sadness, grief, pain, heartache – okay.  Simply being bombastic because you can?  Take it somewhere else! 

Starting today, I am going on notice that I will no longer tolerate, accommodate, or otherwise make excuses for ANYONE that can’t be civil or won’t grow up and deal with their own issues.  IT IS THE HEAT AND THE HUMIDITY!  DEAL WITH IT!

Sorry for the rant but this heat has really taken a toll on me.  I usually don’t go on like this…

Peace,

Denis

My wife likes to tell the story of the time we stopped at a McDonald’s® for something to drink and I pulled into the drive-thru lane to order.  It was a very hot day AND we were extremely thirsty AND I was undoubtedly fatigued.  As I was sitting there waiting for the ‘electronic voice’ to take my order, Debbie asked, “What are you doing?”  I replied, with some irritation, “I’m waiting for someone to take my order!”  Her response, which registered somewhere between disbelief and sarcasm: “That’s the trash can, Mr. Magoo! – why don’t you pull up to the speaker?”  We have laughed about this many times since.  And when I say ‘we’ what I mean is Debbie and our children.  And friends and family that she has told, etc., etc., etc.  Boy, make one simple mistake…

Not that I need to defend my actions (a simple mistake anyone could have made) but that trash can was shaped kind of like one of those ‘ordering thingies’ and though I am not as blind as Mister Magoo, I may not have been wearing my glasses that day.  Anyway, I guess it’s good sometimes to be the butt of the joke – even if it’s me that’s the butt. 

 You know, it’s healthy to learn to laugh at yourself.  We all know those folks that take themselves WAY too seriously.  We all know that person that gets upset when you question anything they do or say.  I have a friend that ABSOLUTELY MUST be right about everything and can never admit to a mistake.  I always want to say, “but you know… ” Of course, then I would become the friend that must be right about everything. 

It’s enough for me to know THAT I AM RIGHT.  I don’t need to tell everyone or prove it to all the poor misguided nincompoops.  Superiority has its own rewards.

So as I bask in my self-righteousness, you should know that I was just joking around the day that Debbie thought I was trying to give my order to the trash can.  I would never do anything so foolish. 

See you out there, ROAD-HOGS!

Peace,

Denis

Remember when your bicycle was your only mode of transportation?  When I was a kid my friend Alan and I would ride just about everywhere – pavement was optional. And our bikes weren’t mountain bikes with 18 gears and European traction.  They were Schwinn’s or Huffy’s with big fat tires and fenders and baskets in the front to accommodate our paper route jobs.  Later we graduated to “Banana Bikes” with the crazy handle bars and “banana seats”.  We would ride to school.  We would ride to our friends’ houses.  We would ride to the neighborhood stores.  We would ride to the park or swimming pool.  Having a bicycle meant freedom and we relished it!  At about 13 years old we road our bikes across two river ferries to a State Park in a neighboring state – to my knowledge our parents still don’t know about this.  My point: if we could get somewhere on two wheels – we would go there!  We didn’t need to ask for a ride (in a car) and we often didn’t ask permission to go beyond our normal boundaries (see State Park trip above).  We just rode our bikes.

Now I know that those were simpler times and maybe there weren’t as many child predators then (but I doubt it).  We grew up in a relatively small town and I suppose there was a certain amount of naïveté that came along with small town life – bad things only happened in the BIG CITY.  We were safe.  The only thing we had to worry about was getting home before dinner or dark – whichever came first.

Recently my wife and I bought bicycles.  We thought it would be healthy and fun!  We bought BIG cruisers with BIG seats and BIG tires.  Debbie’s bike even has a bell, like the one she had as a girl.  Apparently these bikes are made for “people our age” as the snotty-nosed punk at the bicycle shop pointed out.  Incidentally, I think that kid was high.  

Anyway, you know how they say “it’s just like riding a bicycle; you never forget”?  Well I’d like to know who in hell said that and how they know, because I seem to have forgotten a lot about riding bikes.  For instance:  I don’t remember my thighs burning after a 3 mile bike ride.  I also have apparently forgotten that you pant like a dog and sweat like a pig just cruising through your subdivision.  I also don’t remember my butt being sore from a short trip to the Qwiki-Mart down the street.  And I certainly don’t recall ever having to soak in a tub after a FUN BIKE RIDE.  Oh, my! 

God certainly has a sense of humor.  Why else would he let middle-aged people think that they should ‘start’ riding bicycles again after a 40 year hiatus?  Come to think of it – calling ourselves middle-aged is pretty funny, too – unless I live to be 110 years old.  And that’s not too likely if I keep riding my bicycle!  I need to quit writing now and go ice something.   Happy Trails.

Peace,

Denis