Just Swing in the Manner God Intended
As division builds over the landfill, thank goodness something exists upon which we can all agree. The skyrocketing rate of pollen can only be matched by the exploding revelations of extramarital dalliances by the rich and famous.
And not to get anyone overly excited (or nervous), there’s an online version of “Madison after Midnight” due on the internet this June.
How do these indiscretions happen?
Guess it was like the day I sat cross-legged on the elementary school playground. Johnny Walker ran by. I grabbed a truck load of sand and heaved it into his baby blues.
Why?
The principal had been hanging over my shoulder all recess, but she stepped inside. A clear shot opened. I took it.
The only other option for enjoyment was a vacant seat on the swings. With swings, it’s always the same — to and fro, to and fro. Once I tried to swing upside down, facing backwards but my teacher called, “Jamie Miles, you turn yourself right side up and sit on that swing in the manner God intended.”
Johnny ran by without the slightest comment on my new skort. The one I painstaking ironed all morning to get the crease out of Joe Jonas’ forehead. Then right in front of me, he pulled Mary Beth’s pigtail. And I had scoured the bottom of my book bag to find him a gritty a quarter towards a Vita Pup.
Mom did promise to take me to Scoops after she got off from work, but that was four hours away. Moms are nice — but hanging out with them at Scoops is about as cool coming home to find broccoli stuck between your front teeth the entire Science Fair.
We’ve all watched people make choices that inevitably took them down like Texas Stadium last Sunday. On the outside, it’s easy to see when the switch was thrown anyone sitting in section 35, aisle 23, seat 13 was going to be a puff of silica.
But sometimes the stars align and we’re the ones sitting there looking up through that Texas-sized opening. Our mind rests on images of Tom Landry pacing the sidelines — looking down, arms crossed. San Francisco driving. Everything gleaming and covered in chrome. Not falling into disrepair. Not falling into the clutches of Jerry Jones in white face, purple suit and ruby lipstick.
“Honey, don’t you think it’s time to come home and put the kids in bed. Maybe put yourself in bed, beside me?”
“I’ll be there in a second — after one more pitch by Roger Staubach.”
Or after I pop on Facebook and “friend” Michael Irvin.
Ka-boom.
Sometimes we need ask ourselves, why do I feel compelled to flirt with men? Why do I need women to know I have biggest wallet in the room? Why do I keep waking up with people who are married, but just not to me?
Walk away before implosion. Avoid situations where dynamite waits. If bored take up a new hobby. Fly fishing — or there’s always golf. On second thought, “How ‘bout them Cowboys”
This made me so sad. Thirty-seven years gone in less than a minute. At SMU, the Mustangs played all their games in Texas Stadium. In August, when we would go back it was so humid in there.
So shiny and beautiful.
Ended up looking so worn and old.
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.