Quite the Life (and all in Times New Roman 10pt!)
Do you have children?
Do they ask you for things?
When they do, how do they behave?
Begging Behavior is a well established concept in The Wild. Domestic animals, too, and especially those who live directly with us. Have a dog or cat or bird? Do they let you know their wants and needs? Part of that behavior is instinctual and part is what they learned from you.
Domestic animals are keen observers of their humans. They know our weaknesses and discard our strengths. They play us for all we’re worth. I’ve even seen pet tarantula engage in begging behavior.
The Wild is much the same. Begging behavior occurs when the young want something from their elder. You can see it in moose, skunk, hawk, deer, opossum, chipmunk, and in this case, raccoon.
And I would be remiss if I didn’t mention what is probably the penultimate begging behavior, albeit one only half our population recognizes.
Ladies, you know what I mean, correct?
(showing my age, here)
I loved Sly and the Family Stone. Many of their songs became personal anthems over many summers.
End of the Spring and here she comes back.
Hi, hi, hi, hi there.
Them Summer Days.
Just listening to it now (it’s short at 2m40s) fills me with scents and sounds and tastes. The sound of the ball hitting the strings and bouncing off the court playing tennis with Denny and George and Any and Mark. Ice cream at the Puritan and Greek subs at Sabo’s.
Wondering if Sarah would find another.
I understand the neural mechanisms of memory and why some memories are stronger than others.
To feel the same joys and pains. To remember a last, final kiss. To know before our lips parted there would not be another.
The scent of her room. The scent of her. Laughing. Holding. Planning great things which would never be.
She went to college somewhere in Maryland (I think). Andy to Tufts, George and Denny to UNH, Mark I have no idea where.
I applied to many schools, visited quite a few, was accepted at some. My PSATs and SATS put me in the 99th percentile. My grades put me near the bottom. Colleges and universities sent me congratulations on my scores, ignored me because of my grades.
And switching musical genres but not periods, they took off to find the footlights, I took off to find the skies.
You’ve had a long, hard day.
Work won’t let up.
It drags you down, down, down.
Then you come home.
You just want to pour yourself a tall one, get in a nicely scented hot bath, feel the heat seep into your bones and your muscles relax, put on some nice background music, maybe decide where you’ll order in from because there’s a good movie on tonight you’ve been meaning to watch.
Then, before your keys hit the table, before your briefcase is out of your hand, you remember it’s your turn to pick up the Sheila from their ballgame, Tom’s at his dance class, Verletta got her tuba audition, and little Framke got his recital.
If you’re lucky and don’t care how you look, you might have time to change.
But what you really want to say to all of it and everything is…
Get off my back.
