Every once in a great while, Dolberry wishes he had access to a time machine so that he could journey back in time & do youthful things better. Not sure if this identifies my area of greatest regret, but inevitably it involves my senior year of cross country & getting some of those races over again. The daydreaming follows a predictable path. Armed w/ the maturity of an adult & the legs of a 17 year old, I'm able to break through barriers that existed back in 1983 and consistently turn in 5K times in the 16 minute zone. Trinity beats St. X for the State title and the hero's role is mine. As I revel in the spoils of X-C triumph (surprisingly substantial in a vibrant daydream), the flaw in the time machine plan slowly emerges from the background. And it is this. To go back in time, would mean reinterment into the tyranny that marked Dolberry's youth. The tyrant in question ... the terrible El Cuarta.
Probably I could do a whole year's worth of "Life Episode's" on El Cuarta's parental malfeasance, but one episode stands foremost in my mind, surpassing even the time he said turned off U2's Unforgettable Fire w/ the criticism "who can listen to that ... it's awful ... worst music I've ever heard". (To be fair it was Side B which after 'A Sort of Homecoming' is a little sparse in terms of melodiousness.) No. Worse than that. The Oratorical Contest. (shudder)
Now El Cuarta was always trying to get us to do stuff. Crazy stuff in most cases. Imagine days as boxes. Try out for drama. Try out for wrestling. Put sticky labels on forms. Roll your wrists when swinging a bat. Go to the prom. Engage the clutch when shifting gears. Listen to more Van Halen. About the only time he wasn't trying to get you to do crazy stuff was when he was trying to get you to stop doing sensible stuff; e.g., enjoying a good roast beef to its completion, strengthening your arm by tossing a ball against the side of the house, cleaning up after yourself before Midnight Mass, etc.. Seriously, from the time I was about 11 to when I left for Saint Louis, it was one insane idea after the next.
Looking back (as it the purpose of the DCV), it seems to me that the first & maybe most ludicrous notion of them all was El Cuerta's decision that Dolberry should enter an oratorical contest being sponsored by the Hikes Point Optimist Club. El Cuetra did a lot of good work for the Optimists and most of the time it involved pro-community activities such as selling Christmas trees while inebriated, or assembling out-of-control Little League coaches to curse at each other from opposing dugouts. But one year, for some evil reason which I cannot to this day devine the motive, they decided to sponsor an oratorical contest.
The downside of being 11 years old, I remember distinctly, is that there is no good way to talk a parent out of a bad idea. You can't reason with them. Plus, you're in a leveraged position of relying on them for food, lodging, attending to educational expenses, etc. However, any person of sound mind would have been able to see that placing young Dolberry into a contest against his will was as smart an idea as hiring a blogger to be on your campaign staff. You see, Dolberry was a late bloomer when it comes to the gift of gab in a public setting. Nowadays, I love public speaking, because it's the one place where I can get up and speak w/o anyone interrupting me. Come to think of it, I like blogging for similar reasons. You know I don't even read the comments section, so don't bother. Heh heh.
Our hero, Dolberry, though came up w/ an astoundingly, beyond-his-years, wise solution to extricate himself from this no win situation. On the day of the contest, which I remember was held in a building on Breckenridge Lane near Taylorsville Rd., I resolved a way in which I could avoid future El Cuarte - generated debacles.
I tanked it. Yep, I tanked it big time.
I gave a rambling presentation on something or another that certainly was an embarassment to me, but so much more so had to reflect even worse on anyone associated w/ me, in particular any Optimist members who were associated w/ me. And I did it up big time. Stammering, profuse sweating, 73 "ummms", & I even poured a little water on my pants under the podium in an misleadingly unfortunate place ... just for effect. It was a first-rate flop. Dolberry had prevailed.
On my way home, my 4th place (out of 4) green "honorable mention" ribbon draped over my still wet lap (incidentally, La Cuarta graciously hung up that ribbon along side all my "honorable mention" / last place swimming green ribbons), I remember El Cuarte looking back in the rearview mirror and saying ... "you know with a little more practice at public speaking I think you'll really have it." It was his attempt to salvage a tie, but I know this much, there never was a second oratorical contest mandated for Dolberry.
5 comments:
Is this the same reason I've never been asked to paint another fence? Is El Cuerta trying to say something about my fence-painting skills???
Also, with regard to public speaking, have you ever been able to work in any good kangaroo jokes?
Why did the cheerleaders ask a kangaroo to join their squad?
They needed a good roo teen.
When a kangaroo gives birth to two joeys, which side of the pouch does the second joey get?
The one left.
What do you call a kangaroo that doesn't get out much?
A pouch potato.
Those are pretty bad, but I had something more like this in mind:
A kangaroo walks into a bar and orders a beer, a shot of whiskey and vodka neat. The bartender says to the kangaroo, "Hey, didn't I see you at the grocery store last week?"
"Nah," the kangaroo says, "You must be thinking of my brother - the sober kangaroo."
Ah, the misrememberd ramblings of a thirsty horse.
And, just to clarify the record...I did on occasion sell Xmas Trees soberly. On those other unfortunate occasions I mostly donated the trees to the prospective buyers...in keeping with the season and biblical directive "Do unto other.." Still waiting for my free tree.
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