Historical December 1997 article. Dates, prices, services and contacts describe the source period; current availability has not been established.
My postman asks for relief. So do I!
The response to my November WE column, the one in which I asked you what I knew that I didn’t know that I knew, was, in a word, quite overwhelming. Sometimes writing this column can be a bit like yelling Into the forest: “He1111011l000000, is anyone there?” Pulitzer Prizes aside, I don’t get much reaction to my columns. Oh sure, when I wrote the one about wife beating even my close friends wouldn’t look me in the eye. (And it was fictitious!) True, the one about me dying and seeing my body floating in space resulted in three baskets of flowers delivered to our house. And the first wife is now known affectionately by her neighbors, clients, and co-workers as “shoes.” But really, that’s about it. Despite the fame you no doubt think has accrued to me, reality is that I’ve been to no autograph parties.
The publishers aren’t beating down my door to compile my columns into a pithy book. (Love that word, pithy!) Once I was out of town and missed submitting my column. Upon my return I asked my trusty editor, Marjorie, what they’d run in its place and she responded, “Oh, didn’t we get a column from you?” Turns out that instead of my column the back page of THE TIMES offered the schedule for bulk trash pick-up days. (In fact, two people thought that the bulk trash pick-up schedule had been written, tongue in cheek, by me and told me turn I asked my trusty editor, Marjorie, what they’d run in its place and she responded, “Oh, didn’t we get a column from you?” Turns out that instead of my column the back page of THE TIMES offered the schedule for bulk trash pick-up days. (In fact, two people thought that the bulk trash pick-up schedule had been written, tongue in cheek, by me and told me that it was one of my best columns.) So’you get my point, bub.
Some times I’m a singer in a vacuum, a painter in the home for the blind, a chef in south St. Louis. Is anyone out there? And then a month ago I asked a simple question.
The responses were thuddening. (If that’s not a word, it should be.) My postman’s back sagged from bringing in the volume of mail.
To be fair, he was also bringing in catalogues from everyone who has a typewriter with a dollar sign, fund-raising appeals from Aardvarks Alive! to the Zoonasium, and bills from every chick shoe store west of Pittsburgh.
But still, amidst the flotsam and jetsam, there were some responses.
To my loyal trusty readers, those who don’t have anything better to do than to respond to me, I offer my gratitude. Thanks to Elaine and John and Tim and Sarah and Carla and Pat and Billy and Elle and Karen and Mike and Marj and Jong Shu and Metre and Dan and Jim and Jean and Lucy and Frank and Bob and Denise and Mrs. Edmonds and Raphael and Phil and Katie and Katrina and Dr. Shorts and Ellen!
I appreciate all of your kind thoughts (especially those of you who responded to my column). And in response to your responses, yes, I da know how road kill gets to the side of the road. Before his untimely death presidential aid Vince Foster ordered that this be done. And yes, I do know when it’s time to throw out my favorite necktie.
When the spots and stains on it are so bad that they detract from the mirthful pattern of madras geese flying into a paisley pot of Rolling Stones upchuck, then I’ll clean it.
But not a moment before.
I figure It has many years to go. And yes, I th know about the White Castle Turkey Dressing; I’ve yet to see a nude turkey in White Castle.
Finally, yes, I d4 know what time it is! No, I don’t know whether anyone cares.
To be fair, even though I saw Jimmy Buffett at Riverport last year (I thought we were going to an all-youcan-eat place and was surprised to find a singer), I did not know John Prine’s song, “Humidity Built the Snowman,” in which he sang, I don’t think that you know that I think you don’t know. Humming it, though, I Ci52 know why it was not a best-seller.
I bet he and I have the same agent. And I did not know that 1729 is the smallest number that is the sum of two cubes two different ways; actually, I’m glad I didn’t know it and sort of wish that I’d known I didn’t know it so I could have enjoyed my Ignorance. Instead, as with much else in life, I didn’t know what I didn’t know.
Finally, dear readers, in responding the questions posed by the throngs of my followers, people clamoring to know what they don’t know, here are the answers, in order: 212 pairs not counting her sandals; inhaling while drinking beer; the left side of the road; no, Paula Jones only dated Rush Limbaugh; yes; the naturalist; March 9, 1962; two walk-in closets and a bevy of shoe-trees in our basement; “timing is everything”; because you can fall off the earth if you go west of Skinker; seven times; OK, so Paula and Rush were more than good friends; vitamin C and bananas; Ted Drewes chocolate-baloney concrete; TRHoerr@AOL.com; Ben Cartwright; relatives; yes, all three of them together: Lawrence Phillips, Nancy Reagan and Rush Limbaugh; pretty good shape for the shape I’m in; OK, not so good shape for the shape I’m in; and Nantucket. Thank you deer readers (it is hunting season, isn’t it?) for your interest.
As long as you don’t have anything better to do than read this column, I’m appreciative.
But we need to, like, take a break with this correspondence.
In fact, my semi-trusty mailman has asked me not to do this again.
In fairness, I’ve agreed to wait a while and let him get past the holiday greeting card rush. Be thinking ahead though, until the spring, when the questions of the month will be, Is there life on other planets?and, more importantly, Is there life on this planet? And if not, why not? Toadies!
Originally published in The Times of Skinker-DeBaliviere, December 1997.
Read this article in the original newspaper issue.
Archival transcription note: Printed column repeats several sentences about editor and bulk-trash schedule; duplicated passage preserved as source text.
Original source: SD_Times1997_12.pdf, printed page(s) 8; PDF page(s) 8.
