A potpuurri of thoughts
Zoom! Honk! Hey buddy get outta the way! And this is only what you would hear in the store aisles during school supply shopping. Think again if you think it gets any better when you get on our streets.
When did we become a society obsessed with speed? Why is it that cars are made to go faster and speed limits are suggested to go higher? What’s the rush? Where is the love?
Exhibit #1: It is the first week of school and I am driving to work. I noticed that traffic is a bit heavier and because of that, the commute is taking longer. No matter, I left a few minutes earlier to compensate. Then there is John Q. Citizen who decides it would be best that he drive like Mario Andretti with a case of the stomach bug and the next restroom is miles away. (Sorry for the image.) He decides that zipping through traffic would be his best solution to arrive at said destination on time – in one piece is another story. Godspeed to you, sir, I hope you arrived safely to wherever it was that you had to go in such a hurry. Now if it was ten minutes until IKEA stops serving it’s $1 breakfast, then I would understand. However until we get an IKEA, you can’t use that as an excuse.
Exhibit #2: Driver number 1 turns signal on to show those driving around him that he intends to change lanes. Driver number 2 in the lane where Driver number 1 intends to switch over to, speeds up so as not to give any leeway for Driver number 1 change lanes. Driver number 1 changes lanes and Driver number 2 slams on brakes and lays on the horn. We see this scenario happen day in day out. Why do we, as “Friendly Manitobans,” do this? Do we rule the road that we drive on? (Technically, yes, since our tax dollars pay for the concrete). I mean, it’s okay if there is a car in front of you, isn’t it? Or does it ruin your view of the mountains on the horizon?
Why can’t we rewind back to the 60’s and just go back to living the mantra Peace and Love. Easier said than done, right? Just because I wrote it, doesn’t mean it’s going to happen. And another thing, just because you read it on the Internet, doesn’t mean it’s true, right? Wrong.
Just ask die-hard conspiracy theorists who base their facts on what they find on the Internet. According to thousands of websites dedicated to prove what most of us think is fiction, is, in fact, true. As you can plainly see that aliens live among us, that Bigfoot prefers to eat his Cornflakes with skim milk and that Elvis Presley is alive and well living in a 55+ retirement home in small-town Mississippi.
Growing up, I liked to ask a lot of questions. As you can see from the previous paragraphs, there are many sentences that end with question marks. It seems my six-year-old Rece, developed that same trait. Lucky me.
“Dad, what is this made of,” he asks as he holds up his current toy-du-jour to my face – an action figure.
“It’s made of plastic, some metal and paint,” I say.
Frustratingly he blurts out with just a wee tad of sarcasm, “No dad, you don’t understand. What is it made of?”
“There are factories all over the world that make these toys. And if you can imagine, there are thousands of this very same toy all around the world for kids just like you, to play with.”
“No dad, what is this made of?” He once again says but this time with a little more authority.
I start to explain the basis of the universe to him, explaining how everything is made up of very tiny atoms and particles that form everything we can see. He stares blankly at me.
Clearly perturbed, he turns around and starts to walk away while saying, “Dad, it’s made of a head, arms and legs.”
As I stand there shocked and dismayed, I realized that this was a test. He already knew the answer. And I failed miserably. He was sizing me up. I just wish I knew for what.
I fear for my future.Dale Burgos manages the communications department for a Winnipeg school division and hopes to one day to be as smart as his six year old.