draliman on life

I like it! But I am not so fond of Psycho Pete. But anyway, I guess I may be going a whole other direction with this, but:

My father has always said, there’s a point in every little boy’s life (it’s OK, he grew up in the 40s), a crossroads — or maybe he just said, there was a point in his life, when he was a little boy, when he recognized the morbid curiosity inside himself (maybe a touch more than morbid), acted on it once (or twice) with other little boys (perhaps strapping a salamander to a fire cracker), and then decided **DECIDED** (that’s the part I love) that he would go no further down that road and, even, that he would be a friend and advocate for animals. He always taught us, they feel everything we feel only they can’t talk about it, not sure I totally believe that because I think that so much of what we feel is embedded in language. But I do agree for all intents and purposes, especially in that non-rational part of myself — if you can agree/disagree in that part (?) and/or if that part can/should be separated from the rest. He also said, with pets, let them come and go as they like, with regard to affection. Don’t hold them against their will, petting, kissing, etc., when they would rather be doing something else.

I’m not sure girls generally find themselves at this crossroads exactly, but I will say, I was curious. So was my sister. We didn’t want to stick a stick up a hamster butt, but if an animal was already dead, we might look at it longer than some others. The little girls next door ask me, often, when/if we can dig up the baby birds we buried a summer (or two?) ago. I feel bad that we haven’t gotten around to that yet. Seems perfectly innocent to want to see what’s become of them.

But back to Dad, he neglected to tell me that after that crossroads, he took a black snake to high school one day as a prank. And the prank went bad. The snake was killed. He was mad at my aunt for sharing. He has always made a point to drive around snakes (and the like), even get out and gently encourage them to move off the road. But true to his complicated relationship with the animal planet, he told me recently about how he saw a snake in a tree, trying to get into a bird nest, which is a “perfectly natural” thing for it to do — and he knows this. But he became irrationally enraged (he admitted) at the snake for going after the eggs, poked at it with a stick, and when the snake proceeded, he became personally insulted (my take on it), as in “How dare he ignore me! My stick! Who does he think he is!?” And he poked harder, sending the snake on its way, he wasn’t sure where/how, it (he?) moved so quickly, “just a blue streak and the rustling of leaves and he was gone!” And the whole point of his story, I think, was that he was worried he’d hurt the snake! He had interfered, attempted to intervene, in a natural event … and what a mess he had made.

I have a similar story. Maybe it’s in the genes, like whatever’s up w/ psycho Pete — probably at least in part. Me? I have a different take on that photo. Maybe I’ll give it a go, even though it’s late. Late is my middle name.

p.s. Is “Hawwy” the little girl’s attempt at pronouncing “Harry”?

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