A Word Edgewise |
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A Word Edgewise |
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Last Updated 06/30/05
For more literature go
to Clendenin Books
Email: mjclen@our-town.com
MOST OF THE ADVICE I HAVE TO GIVE IS IGNORED
By Mary Joe Clendenin
“O. K. Here you are,” I said as I set my soup bowl on the floor for Jeddie, the dog that we live with, to have a bite. “Now don’t get your ears in it.”
Of course,
if the bowl had been wider than his head and since his ears are floppy with long
hair at the tips, my admonition to keep his ears out of his food would have been
for naught. Made me think about all the useless advice and admonitions I’ve
given through the years.
To my kids
climbing trees: “Now don’t fall!” Just reminding them—but did that stop
the climb. Are you kidding? They climbed higher just to show me they could.
But I
forgot to remind Melissa that bears can climb trees, too. Once, when we lived in
Cloudcroft, New Mexico, she was playing with a covey of other children in a yard
across the canyon. Some were swinging in a swing attached to the limb of a fir
tree. Melissa, who always climbed trees, had climbed above the swing limb. When
one kid gave the alarm, all the others darted into the house as a bear ambled
into the yard. The bear noticed the still swinging swing and went to
investigate. He reared up on the tree to get a better view just as the woman of
the house ran out with a broom to chase him away. Fortunately, he did chase, and
a scared little girl scrambled down to safety.
“Don’t
get those pants dirty. It’s nearly time for church.” “Don’t worry about
that now.” “Keep your hands out of the cookie jar.”
“Where
did you leave your jacket?” Son Pat, the absent minded one, always
concentrating on the immediate point of his interest, whether it be the
direction the rabbit took, or how best to tease his little sister, never knew
where he left his jacket. He would wear one to school in the cool of the
morning, shed it when the day warmed, and never get home with it. Next day he
would wear another until all of his and of his brother’s were at school. Then
he would groan and protest loudly when he had to make a special trip back to
bring home an armload of jackets.
Then as a
teacher, “Your research paper will be due in six weeks. Don’t put off
writing it until the night before.” How many started work on it
immediately? Maybe one out of thirty. How many waited until the last
week? Fifteen. How many until the night before? Ten. “That’s a mean teacher.
She counted off for being late just by two days!”
Then the
Friday reminder, “Remember, your book reports assigned last semester are due
Monday. You have read the book haven’t you?”
Among the
ridiculous statements have to be those beginning, “Don’t let me catch you
doing that again----“ Maybe when daughter was in junior high it was, “Now
don’t let me catch you wearing lipstick again. You are not old enough to wear
lipstick to school.” As if it would be O.K. if she didn’t get caught. What
kind of lesson does that teach?
To husband watching football, “Remember to answer the phone while I’m
gone.” “Hmmmmm, o.k.”
‘And I
left a cake in the oven. Please turn the oven off when the bell rings.” Now,
even I know better than leave with that last admonition. Too many burned cakes
do finally teach a slow learner.
“Please
don’t track mud in. Wipe your feet on the mat.”
“Be
careful. Don’t break that glass,” as it crashes in the sink.
“Wait.”
“Be
patient. I’m coming.”
“Don’t
worry about that.”
Many of
the admonitions are directed to self—and are also ignored. “Don’t eat
that. It’s full of fat.” “Remember to send that card.” “Don’t lose
that receipt.” “Remember where you put this.”
“So,”
I say to Jeddie. “You hid your bone in my knitting! Don’t you know you will
get the stitches off the needle?” He looks puzzled, but he listens. “What
are you, some kind of dumb canine?” He wags his tail at me and runs to get his
ball. “I haven’t time to play, especially if you won’t give me the ball to
throw for you. I have to get my article written.”
Think
it’s dumb to talk to a dog? Well, at our house during a ball game it’s more
sensible than to talk to that man waiting for the punt in the living room. When
does football season end, anyway?