Cornfield Junkyards

There’s a show on the History channel called “American Pickers”. It’s essentially Pawn Stars meets Antique Road Show meets Hoarders and chronicles the lives of two men who travel the heartland to find treasures where others see junk. They’ll happen upon a farm that appears to grow rusted ruins instead of corn, traipse around with the always elderly owner, and barter over pennies to purchase what others wouldn’t give a second look. What amazes me most is, unlike Pawn Stars, they are not flipping these renovated treasures for huge profits. In many cases they make about a week’s worth of Starbucks Coffee.

So, what in the hell is my point? Each of the items in these residential junkyards was once brand new and full of promise. Each item represents the hard work, innovation, and dreams of some inventor/creator who either wanted to make a difference, make a buck, or both. These relics were brought into this world with care and intention, polished to perfection, and wrapped in packaging meant to keep them safe until their rightful owner was found. At times, the new owner was not good and destroyed the object well before its useful life had been reached, but in most cases these objects were used properly and with a great deal of love. Yet somewhere along the way they just stopped being needed. Now they are strewn across acres of rubble, mere memories of what could have been. Their time has now passed; they are either no longer working or no longer needed. Their future holds nothing more than remaining in their inanimate retirement homes collecting rust until they either disintegrate or simply become part of the earth. These items were once purchased by someone. Someone thought enough of them at one point to part with their hard earned money in order to have them part of their possessions; some for pleasure and others for necessity. Sure, fads change, although I defy you to find me anyone who doesn’t appreciate a good Radio Flyer in mint condition. The “must-haves” of yesteryear will undoubtedly become obsolete by even greater innovation in our drive for ultimate efficiency and perfection (look no further than the phonograph replaced by the record player, replaced by the 8-track, replaced by the CD, now made extinct by the MP-3 thanks to our friends at Apple). The saddest part of the story is with each newer version, the quality of the product decreases as the features and coolness factor infinitely increase.

Again, so what the hell is my point? These inanimate objects are really no different than we are as humans. We are all born into this world full of promise with an endless array of opportunity and options. We are, in most cases, the product of someone’s dream; a 9 month creation filled with hope and love. We are brought into this world carefully wrapped in our cotton swaddles to keep us warm and safe as we get used to the harsh environment in which we now dwell. Most of us are lucky enough to be a part of a loving family who protects, nourishes, and encourages us in our growth. Some are not so fortunate and draw the short straw of abuse and neglect until their useful life ends much too early. Then somewhere along the way, or maybe gradually all along, we begin to lose our usefulness to those around us until we eventually become obsolete. If you are lucky this doesn’t happen until well into your advanced years, but I think we all begin to feel it much earlier. Our options become limited. People look at us in a different way and eventually we are replaced with the younger and more efficient versions of ourselves. With each generation the quality of character decreases as their abilities and coolness factor infinitely increase. What really makes this sad is we often times do it to ourselves. We tell ourselves we can’t instead of we can. We settle in order to make money, make someone else happy, meet social pressures, or any number of other convenient excuses we give until we find ourselves in the human version of the cornfield junkyard we call our lives. All along we sit there collecting rust, hoping against all hope that someone notices the value in us we once had.

Yet again, what the hell is my point? My point is we all either give rust or help to polish it away. We all have the ability to put a little shine on someone who has grown a little dull after years of exposure to the often harsh reality that is the daily grind. We can all look through our own personal cornfields of family, friends, and acquaintances to remember why we included them in our collection in the first place. My collection includes GI Joe with the Kung Fu Grip, a candle holder, a complete set of Blue and White army figurines, Gumby, a Carrot Top Poster, Snoopy, Pluto, Rin Tin Tin, Father time and Mother Goose, the two best Cabbage Patch Kids ever made, and a priceless bottle of wine with a beautiful bouquet that proves the adage it only gets better with age. It’s small by choice…helps me prevent the rust and neglect.

We don’t lose value, we lose attention. We grow rust out of neglect. And don’t let yourself become a meaningless part of an overgrown collection. Demand more and know your own value. The difference between us and the 1950’s bicycle partially buried in the mud and brush is we all have the ability to stand up, brush away the dust and bramble and walk away. So I leave you with one final question. How many treasures have you let leave your own farm for mere pennies on the dollar?

Out of Hibernation

It's been far too long since I've written anything.  One of those cases where work, family, and life in general have gotten in the way.  I'd like to believe my words were sorely missed, but the reality is the only comment I've recieved was from a reader who proclaimed, "No Wax Rants= Dead".  I suppose he was at least partially right.  I'd prefer to think of it as simply being in hibernation.  So fittingly as Spring is now upon us, I will attempt to come out of hibernation, shake the leaves from my back, and write once again about all that drives me nuts.

1) Why do people feel the need to tell someone who just had a baby that they are amazing and they don't know how they did it?  I realize that child birth is hard, but they are not exactly the first one to go through it.  And, regardless of how good or bad you are at it, the baby is coming out anyway.  How did they do it?  They had sex, they got pregnant, and 9 months later they had a baby.  I'm pretty sure it's been done before.

2)  Why am I made to feel as if I've crossed a picket line whenever I go to the store and don't buy Girl Scout Cookies from the 10 year old Mafia parked at the entrance?  Do they not see the 10 extra pounds I've gained in the past month off a mortgage's worth of Thin Mints and Samoas?  Don't they understand that after the initial euphoria of the first week of cookies Girl Scout sales become just as annoying as the Salvation Army and their damn bell? 

3)  The snooze button on my alarm clock extends the alarm by 7 minutes.  Why 7 minutes?  What could possibly have been the thought process of the engineers where they decided 5 minutes was too short and 10 minutes was too long?  It does not make any sense.  The world and its inhabitants like symmetry.  Did they decide that 7 was lucky? Is there some sleep research I'm unaware of that says an extra 6 minutes of sleep makes you angry, 8 minutes makes you more tired, but 7 minutes makes you feel rested, alive, sexually attractive, more spirtual, lowers your cholesterol, increases cognitive skills, stops a receding hair line, combats irritable bowel syndrome, and makes you more likely to get promoted at work?  Whatever the reason, I'm now forced to set me initial alarm for 3 minutes past the hour so my 7 minutes snoonze lands me on 5:10 am.  That will show them.

4)  Why do we feel the need to tell the waitress at a restaurant our correct name when asked for it on a wait list to be seated?  They don't know nor do they care.  They simply want to know how to contact you, how many people you have with you, and whether you are going to be a royal pain in the ass if the wait is 1 minute longer than predicted.  And why don't people hear their name the first time it is called?  Me, I'm anticipating it like a 16 year old girl waiting to see if the tube she just pee'd on has a plus or a minus. 

5)  I wonder if the people who make the Chia Pet are pissed off the Snuggie has replaced them as the go to gag gift?  Is it possible a merger could be in the making where we could have the Chia Snuggie (the Chuggie)? 

It's a short list today, but it's a start.  Hopefully it will spark a sudden rash of additional posts that essentially go unread.

First Paragraph- A Dirty Little Secret

Judy Leclair was the all-American girl. Her beauty was undeniable, but the attraction that all men felt for her went well beyond looks. Judy had an immense capacity to please, but was able to maintain her identity as a strong and independent woman. Unpredictably she’d married the nerd from high school, instead of the quarterback, but Judy never followed the rules. The man had no looks, little personality, and a slight limp when he walked, but Judy had apparently found all of his flaws charming and pledged her life to him nearly 8 years ago. Judy’s three children thankfully took on her looks as their Christmas card photo annually chronicled. Judy really could do it all; full-time mother, volunteer at no less than five local charities, and a devoted wife that never let her husband go to bed unsatisfied. Tuesday the 31st was just another ordinary day in her extraordinary life. She had exercised, showered, and was dressed to the nines before anyone else in her house had pressed the snooze alarm. Breakfast was individually prepared for each family member and her husband’s lunch was specially prepared and already placed in his briefcase. She kissed him goodbye, the type of kiss that let him know there were no others, and watched in the door as he backed out of the driveway and drove down the street. Judy’s two oldest were dropped off at school and her youngest at daycare and by 8:30 am Judy was already back home ready to tackle the day. As she did every day, she went upstairs to her home office and logged into her computer. While it churned to life, Judy pulled open the futon, put her hair up in a bun, and put on a pair of black rimmed glasses. She was the real life replica of every man’s naughty librarian fantasy, which is exactly what she wanted. The beep on the computer signaled to Judy that her 9:00 am had arrived in the chat room and she was pleased to see it was a regular named James. Judy positioned herself in front of her webcam, unbuttoned her blouse, and prepared herself to give the main in the wheelchair the very best that $4.99 a minute could buy.

Word Play

I recently played a game asking me to list the 100 most common words in the English language. The game was interesting (I got 83 of them), but the most intriguing part was the order of the 100 most used words. It got me thinking, so I did a quick search and found the top 500 most commonly used words For example:

Want is #154 on the list, while need is #186. Given our current money hungry, sense of entitlement, tis better to receive then give society, this seems about right.

No is #84 on the list. Yes does not show up on the top 100 (it ranks 486 for those playing at home). I’m guessing that parents and virginal girls are single handedly keeping “no” in the top 100. However, we’d probably be a much better society if “yes” could at least crack the top 200. Similarly, never (#223) comes before always (#267)

One (#23) logically comes before two (#73) and both of them come before number (#86). However two does come before first (#93). Additionally, three (#153) comes before four (#218) which comes before five (#368) which comes before six (#371). Seven is apparently unlucky and misses the list entirely. Eight also misses the list, but ate comes in at #282. Nine was also out of the top 500; however ten does come in at #376.

He (#11) comes before she (#50). His (#19) is there, but hers doesn’t even make the list. Boy (#146) is ahead of girl (#303) and man (#116) comes in well ahead of woman, which didn’t even make the list. Apparently there is sexism even in our language. On a positive note, we are smart enough to known that mother (#194) comes before father (#200).

Love (#387) does come before money (#389), although just barely.

Mile is number 272 while inch is n umber 451. I guess if you give them an inch, they will take a mile.

On the race note, white (#255) does come ahead of black (#326).

For all of you married women out there, numbers 178-181 are Why Ask Men Change. Good question.

List (#310) and language (#499) both make the list.

Selfishly speaking, take (#105) comes before give (#123), I (#18) comes before we (#35) and my (#82) comes before our (#124).

And finally, maybe we are in moral peril as God doesn’t even show up in the top 3000 words spoken.