Cows and fodder...

You can’t blunt the edge of wit or the point of

satire with obscurity. Try to imagine

a…witty saying that is not

immediately clear.

James Thurber: Collecting Himself

I have this friend Alena…well, not exactly.  Let’s start this again.

I have this friend John, who is married to Alena.  She is a writer; recently published a book, The Opinionated Old Cow: Ruminations from the Field, and I don’t like her!

Okay that is a bit much to say about the wife of an old friend, but really, she writes the way I would like to write, yet somehow can’t find the stream of consciousness that she seems so easily to fall into…I suppose it is NOT dislike, but rather envy pure and simple!

I admit, I bought her book out of loyalty to John thinking to myself,

I am going to read this, so I can drop John a note to tell Alena I thought the book was nice and enjoyable, and interesting…

You know, the kinds of things one says to a friend about a book authored by his wife – ”…not too hot, not too cold - just right…”

It turns out, the book was not only an excellent read, but entertaining, thoughtful and packed with a vocabulary dripping from her keyboard the way Michael Jordan appeared to fly through the air when he played basketball.

Yep, I was enjoying her book, when a sense of free-floating anxiety started to seep in. 

Wait just a minute here! I thought, This is not only entertaining; it is really good! 

Writer’s impotence was setting in – that was it. You know, you think your writing will be good, but the work product is, shall we say, less impactful than you envisioned!

Over the years I have enjoyed reading.  In the beginning, it was thriller fiction, mostly because the genre was enjoyable, required little thought and passed the time.  Those were the days when I thought life would go on forever.

Over the years, however, I realized there were truly gifted writers, like gifted athletes and artists and entertainers - folk who come to the earth with just the right genetic endowment and internal drive to fly with the eagles.  You know the ones I am talking about. 

I found myself stopping from time to time at the end of sentences and paragraphs, for no other reason than to marvel at how a gifted wordsmith crafted words and ideas most never find, nor see, unless revealed by the enlightened mind. 

These expressive souls are so good, they make you feel like you could do the same thing…UNTIL, you sit before a keyboard trying to channel Pat Conroy or James Carroll or some other teller of tales.

Every kid sees himself as Michael Jordan, until he tries and finds…he will NEVER be.

Reality bites…

My first real awakening occured in collegiate track & field. 

In the high school I was a decent athlete, seldom losing sprint races or the long jump – renamed from its earlier moniker ‘broad jump,’ bringing to mind images unrelated to long runways ending in a piles of sand! 

In those days, I seldom lost, except of course if you count the State Championships where I came, painfully, second in both events…I digress.

At the University level, I held my own…winning a few and losing a few – mostly winning.

Then there was that indoor meet at The Ohio State University…

There were four teams, three from large universities and a few runners from Eastern Michigan…Eastern who? Really?!

It was the quarter-mile and after warming up, it was off to the starting blocks.  I looked around confidently at the other fellows, with only one thought, 

Get to the finish line first!

Drawing Lane 1, I had the advantage of being able to see all the other runners…it didn’t get much better than this.

BANG!  The gun went off – a quick start out of the blocks.

Running for all I was worth, grunting and straining I looked to the fellow from Eastern Michigan gauging my place.  This guy was not running, he was floating…he was not straining, he was communing with the gods… For all practical purposes, it was the tortoise and the hare…the hare, in this case woefully ignorant of Aesop’s point!

I had never competed against a runner this gifted, an epiphany that struck like a bolt of lightening from the hand of Zeus.

Realization sunk in that even training and performing to my capacity would NEVER bring a win against this guy! I realized, in the most immediate of ways, not everyone has the same size glass…practicing until the cows came home, would not have changed the outcome!

Cows...Old Cows…yes that’s how this started. 

Alena has been writing a delightfully entertaining blog since 2009 (http://opinionatedoldcow.blogspot.com).  Her book is a compilation of this and other clever things appearing in well-known publications – the verdâtre (greenish) tinge to my skin prohibits me from promoting her too much!

As I finished her book, I felt quite like that lad at The Ohio State University indoor track meet, lo those many years ago...

Talented?  Some! 

Capable? Yeah! 

A soaring Eagle?  Not so much…

Alena? Well, she is so good, she makes me think that I could write like that!

- ted