Dear Kid,
For the record, the Verizon store is not a fab place to try to write a blog. Partly because I’m keeping an ear open for a Helpful Person, partly because the music is bass-heavy and I’m old, partly because I find decisions that will impact life for two years somewhat stressful, partly because phone stores are fairly boring places, and partly because I don’t have an actual topic to write about today.
Then again, Jerry Seinfeld created an entire TV series about nothing, so one blog shouldn’t be that surprising.
In fact, that’s what I generally do—spin nothing into something.
Duh.
I’ve been thinking about the expression “duh” as in “what else could I possibly mean by that” or “you’re just figuring that out now?”
Once Upon a Time, I read the Jungle Book to you (the original Rudyard Kipling version not the Disney version [which I love but is not what I’m talking about at the moment]). I’m reasonably sure you remember most of the story. I’m also reasonably sure that you don’t remember the poems at the start and end of each chapter.
When I was growing up, Grandpa often quoted part of Kaa’s Hunting at me (and yes, I do mean at me).
If ye find that the bullock can toss you, or the heavy-browed Sambhur can gore;
Ye need not stop work to inform us: we knew it ten seasons before.
(Full poem below for your reading pleasure.)
Once I was sufficiently familiar with the lines, he didn’t even have to quote the whole thing. Yeah, Dad. Got it. It was quite a nice way of him saying “duh.” Actually, it was a really nice way of saying “duh” especially since “duh” hadn’t been invented back then.
Eventually, Brandon the Helpful Verizon Person got around to making himself helpful in my general direction. We discussed plans, we discussed pricing, we discussed how funny I am.
And I made no decisions.
Duh.
Love, Mom
Kaa’s Hunting by Rudyard Kipling
His spots are the joy of the Leopard: his horns are the Buffalo’s pride.
Be clean, for the strength of the hunter is known by the gloss of his hide.
If ye find that the bullock can toss you, or the heavy-browed Sambhur can gore;
Ye need not stop work to inform us: we knew it ten seasons before.
Oppress not the cubs of the stranger, but hail them as Sister and Brother,
For though they are little and fubsy, it may be the Bear is their mother.
‘There is none like to me!’ says the Cub in the pride of his earliest kill;
But the jungle is large and the Cub he is small. Let him think and be still.
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