Crack!

I’ve always been a fan of throwing stuff at other stuff. Not only does it sharpen one’s accuracy, a skill that admittedly hasn’t yet been useful in my life but which I’m certain eventually will, but it also gives one an immense feeling of satisfaction when the target is hit, along with a jolt of excitement if that target is something that can throw stuff back.

The best thing about throwing stuff at other stuff is the variation, as stuff can refer to so many things. For example:

rocks at wooden posts
rocks at trees
baseballs at a strike zone
rocks at brothers
apples at brothers
rocks at lakes
dodgeballs at nerds
rocks at other rocks
rocks at seagulls when you’re at the county landfill with your dad as a kid, although you never come close to hitting one (seagulls, not dads)

As you can see, rocks typically make up at least half of the “stuff at stuff” equation, and so it makes perfect sense that hitting rocks with sticks would also be right up my alley. Surprisingly enough, however, there was a stretch in my life when that wasn’t the case. I call it the “Lost Era”. Here's how it finally ended:

A few years ago my friend Lurch and I were killing a day in Michigan’s Keweenaw County. Although I can’t say for sure, I have a sneaking suspicion that this included playing H-O-R-S-E in Eagle Harbor, along with possibly a game or two of horseshoes, which are both standard activities for us. However, Lurch had something extra up his sleeve, and at some point he suggested we climb a rock pile near Phoenix and hit rocks off of it with a stick.

Hitting rocks with a stick was something that I hadn’t done in many, many years, and I was initially skeptical. It just didn’t strike me as being that fun. My guess is that at the time I was going through a dreaded maturity spurt, and the idea of regressing back to an activity practiced most heavily by eight-year old boys seemed completely counter to that. Basically, my argument boiled down to three words: That’s kid stuff!

However, I reluctantly agree, and we scaled the rock pile. Jeff set out and found the branch he’d left leaning against a tree the last time he was there. With that accomplished, he started tossing up rocks and hitting them.

Crack!
Crack!
Crack!

Waitaminute….It looked kinda fun.

Crack!
Crack!
Crack!

Soon enough, I was doing the same. It was wonderful. There was the satisfaction of connecting perfectly and seeing how far the rock would go before it disappeared into the trees below. There was the duel hearty guffawing when either of us swung mightily and failed to connect, nearly swinging ourselves out of our shoes. There were the Ernie Harwell imitations as we called our own homeruns: “And that one is looooonnngggg gone!! ”

And so I learned a lesson that day about keeping it simple, stupid. Or at least, the lesson was reinforced, and I realized that if you can’t enjoy hitting rocks with sticks, then you’ve definitely got to reexamine your priorities in life. So, from that point on, every time I’ve had the chance to hit rocks with sticks, I’ve taken advantage of it. For example, in Sedona, Arizona a few years ago:

And most recently this past weekend, where Lurch and I again found ourselves in Keweenaw County, and this time it was me who suggested we go back to the same rock pile. The results were the same. Crack! Crack! Crack! I was a few years older, but it was just as fun. Take that maturity spurts! I may have a job and an ID badge and a responsibility to attend boring meetings where nothing is accomplished, but you can’t take my spirit! (In fact, on the day I turn eighty, I’d like to go somewhere and hit rocks with sticks. The only problem will be if some of the cracks are my hips, but it’d still be worth it.)

This past Sunday I was walking to my car after church. I was parked near the very edge of the lot, and as I neared, I saw three boys, probably all about age eight. They were hitting rocks with sticks into the trees. I laughed and hoped that in twenty years they knew what I’ve come to know: You can’t always be immature, but you sure as heck don’t have to always be mature.

Traffic Light Equilibrium

The light turned green just as I was drawing near. I didn’t even have to slow down as I pulled through the intersection. People who’d been sitting there, stuck on red, since well before I was even a speck on the horizon watched me go, most likely grumbling at my good fortune.

Oh boy, I thought, is this ever gonna cost me.

I’m talking about traffic light equilibrium. My theory is that there is some unknown force, currently undetectable even with the most sophisticated of equipment, which keeps track of your good and bad experiences with traffic lights and makes sure they balance out. So, for every green light you get just as you show up at a crowded intersection, which keeps you from sitting in line and watching the guy behind you pick his nose, you’re going to have to eventually pay for it in the form of sitting at some other intersection for what seems like several presidential administrations, watching everybody else stream by as you wonder if the traffic light is broken or if it just hates you.

I realize some would argue that this is just a product of mathematics and statistical probability. However, if that were the case, it would be pretty darn useless to write about, and I’ve already gotten too far into it to stop now. So the heck with mathematics and statistical probability. What’s that ever gotten us, anyway?

Now, back to the subject at hand, on which I don’t claim to be any sort of export. I haven’t done nearly enough city-driving to have accumulated the necessary evidence to make any firm conclusions. For example, does how much of a hurry you’re in play a part? Let’s say you’re on the verge of being late for work and there’s an important meeting you have to make. If you hit a green light at an intersection where you usually get delayed, and because of it you make the meeting on time, does that mean that the Traffic Light Counterbalance Force will make up for it at some later time by giving you a red when you’re in just as much of a hurry? Or does it just mean that you’ll get a red at some undetermined point in the future, and whether you’ll be in a hurry or not is left purely up to chance?

This is an important question. If how much you’re in a hurry doesn’t play into it, then in theory you could drive around in rush hour someday when you have nowhere to be and collect red lights, just so you’ll have banked up a series of greens for the future, which will hopefully be distributed when you need them the most. (“The store is about to close and I desperately need to buy Twinkies! Come on light, be green!!!!”)

Also, can you do things to slant things in your favor, sort of like karma? For example, if somebody cuts you off rudely and you choose not to tailgate them for numerous miles while blowing your horn and gesturing, will you build up some good karma that will afford you a few more green lights somewhere down the road? Conversely, if you go out of your way to drive through a puddle at 80 miles an hour just to splash an unsuspecting pedestrian, will you be punished with a series of future red lights? However, what if the pedestrian was one of those people who goes running just to show off to everybody in traffic? (“Look at me! I’m healthy! I could have easily chosen an easier route where I wouldn’t have to navigate numerous crowded intersections, but I didn’t! Ha ha!”) In that case, would it even matter? In fact, could you possibly earn a few green lights for it?

As you can see, this subject is not to be taken lightly. It can have a major impact on your life, and so the more you learn, the better off you’ll be. I, for one, know that my education on the matter has just begun, and I’m looking forward to growing my knowledge base.

Of course, you could just move out to the country where there are no stoplights or heavy traffic and avoid the whole thing. But then you’d have to deal with such things such as cows in the road and a lack of a convenient restaurant serving artery-clogging food every four square feet. The decision, ultimately, is yours.

On Sunglasses

Hmmm, I wonder how I do this without insulting almost everybody who’s ever worn sunglasses?

Oh well, no risk, no reward, right?

Sunglasses and I have always had a bit of a strained relationship. This is because many people seem to wear them to look cool and not to actually protect their eyes from the sun, which is a practice that I find annoying. For example, recently at work I was sitting in the lunch room when I saw one of those preppy guys who style each individual follicle of hair on their head with gel walking through the building wearing sunglasses. I nearly fell off my chair laughing. (I was laughing in an annoyed manner.) Now, you could argue that he was most likely on his way out, except for the fact that it was completely overcast and gray outside, without a hint of sun in the sky. Now you tell me that he wasn’t trying to look cool.

Anyway, this is the exact practice I’ve vowed never to fall into; wearing sunglasses somewhere where sunglasses don’t need to be worn. (Say that 10 times fast!) This may partially explain why I didn’t even keep sunglasses in my car for a number of years. (I know it doesn’t really make sense, as cars are where they’re the most useful. Maybe I didn’t want to even give myself the opportunity to wear them somewhere where they didn’t need to be worn.) And so, because of this, I've spent many hours in the car squinting into the sun, which probably explains why my face is stuck in a seemingly perpetual squint. (Not because I’m trying to emulate Clint Eastwood.)

However, recently I finally broke down and purchased a pair of sunglasses for my car, as my squinting was finally starting to hurt my face. (Insert your joke about hurting other faces here.) Everything was going good with this endeavor until the other day, when disaster struck. I had stopped at the grocery store and walked all the way across the parking lot when I realized that I was still wearing my new sunglasses. Obviously, I didn’t want to wear them into the store, because it would convey that I was desperately trying to look cool. (“Feast your eyes on me! I’m wearing sunglasses! How edgy, dangerous, and/or perhaps sophisticated!”) Yet I also didn’t want to go all the way back to my car to dispose of them. So I settled on a compromise where I pushed them up so they rested on my head. Still, I felt like some preppy guy wannabe trying to show off. I looked around the grocery store and nobody else had sunglasses propped up on their head, and it seemed that everybody was looking at me out of the corners of their eyes and judging. (“Ooh, look at that guy! He thinks he’s so cool! I’ll bet he pulls out his smart phone to text just to show everybody how important he is!”) I almost apologized to the checkout person when I went through, just out of principle.

So, you may ask, in my incredibly narrow view of how the world ought to be, where exactly can a person wear sunglasses and not be trying to show off? In my mind, the valid options include: when you’re in your car and it’s sunny, when you’re playing sports outside and it’s sunny, and when you’re at the beach and don’t want to be caught looking at members of the opposite sex, especially if you’re with your significant other. (I’m pretty sure I’m kidding about the last one.) Besides that, it seems like squinting would work just fine.

Now, I’m pretty certain I’ve just insulted quite a few people who wear their sunglasses in other scenarios who don’t feel they’re doing it just to show off. For any of you who fall into this category and are ready to write an angry response, I just have to ask you one question: Are you really, really sure? I mean, maybe you don’t even know you’re doing it to try to look cool!

I suppose I should stop now before I make matters any worse. (I’m not even going to attempt to fix things.) However, I can’t change who I am, and that’s just that. Sunglasses and I will never be on the best of terms, and it probably says a lot more about me than it does sunglasses. However, we’re just never going to see eye to eye.

Probably because I’m always squinting.

(Sidebar: There was an awful lot of parenthesis usage in this entry, wasn’t there?)