A Beartrap to the Face

I actually had a good experience with a phone company (for the record, Verizon). My first call produced no results but my second sure did. I got through to an affable woman (she kept cursing on the phone and apologizing when I explained my situation) and, with the added detail about "my new family" she took to me and offered to send the rep for free. Done deal!

And I lucked out the guy who showed up to fix the lines, too. He was young and didn't seem too busy but also liked to talk about phone lines. I love talking to people who talk shop to strangers.

He explained to me in detail why the lines were so messed up. The previous owner did a radio show out of the attic and needed multiple lines for his call-in program, and the renters who took over the place switched to a different provider.

I figured him for the one local repair guy hired by the company at a time when people weren't repairing the lines a whole lot. He kept making suggestions for other places to install jacks and I got the impression he would have put them in every room if I'd asked and, later, I almost felt bad I hadn't.

When he left, the phone rang. It was the first time in perhaps a decade when I had a land lane I might conceivably call "my phone."

I picked up the receiver. There was no one on the other end.

*

Dufflebag is next to me, and he's working on his homework. There's a predictable pattern. I ask him what he has for homework and he says it's a small sheet and it's easy. Then, he does it in a few minutes and I have him redo it, since it's harder than he first thought and riddled with errors, mostly coming from rushing through the questions to get to the tv time on the other end.

I wonder what patterns I had like these: did I never finish a glass of milk and leave it on the table before rushing off to play? Did I leave my shoes in the bathroom every night? Did I go through similar, unconscious rituals, of losing then finding a pencil each time I sat down to do homework?

Honest truth -- I didn't do much homework, ever.

I don't have strong memories from the time, or even thereabouts. Perhaps the most vivid -- and I have no idea why this sticks out other than its sheer embarassing quality -- is the hours I'd spend in the basement with Star Wars figures. My mother would never let me have more than three or four of them, and she wasn't the sort to indulge me with multiple viewings, so I had a shallow knowledge of the original film's plot. Plus, the figures didn't have knees and this bothered me enough so that I had to get creative about moving them around.

My solution (why did I do this to myself) was to invent long operas with the characters. Yes, operas. They sang to each other. And, to further shame myself and family, I also need to add that the characters sang to each other while ice skating.

Now, I know about the infamous tv special, although I doubt it influenced me. I think it was more those unbendable knees.

That, my friends, is one of my strongest childhood memories. Playing with Star Wars characters and making ice rink operas with them. And I could sit there in the basement for hours making them up. I would get so absorbed in them (and remember, I only had, at most, four figures ever -- to my memory Darth Vader, Boba Fett, C3PO, and Obi Wan-Kenobi) that I was go into a near rage when I was interrupted for dinner.

There, I said it. Kindly, let's not talk about this again.

*

Just now, as I finished writing, Dufflebag came up to me and told me he had a question, but that he would wait because I was busy. He looked concerned, so I told him to ask away.

"What," he said, looking sad, "is the oldest animal trap ever invented."

Hmm.

I went on to explain the difference between history and prehistory, and the problems of answering his question. I took a stab at an answer -- perhaps a ledge where herd animals would be driver off onto spikes.

As I spoke, he lost interest and changed the subject. "If you put your face in a bear trap, would it kill you."

"Probably."

"It would hurt."

"It would probably do more than hurt."

He didn't seem satisfied by this answer but it was all I had to give. He turned around and went upstairs to play.