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Historical May 1990 report or notice. Original dates, prices and contacts describe the source period; current availability has not been established.
I’ve always had a short attention span.
Even when I was a little kid, I had trouble focusing on something for What do you think of those Cardinals?
If anybody can do it, good ol’ Whitey can. There’s no doubt in my mind that he’s the best manager in baseball because Have you tried the new Indian Restaurant on Kingshighway, one block south of Chippewa? It’s great, but be careful what you answer when they ask you how hot you like your food.
As I said, I’ve always had a short attention span.
As a kid, I was always starting the second and third and fourth project before I finished the first.
Some things don’t change: as an adult, I’m always starting the second and third and fourth project before I finish the first. I never turned my homework in on time in school, and my articles are published in this August newspaper only through the patience and extended deadlines of a series of editors.
Some people find a hobby that they stay with for life. Over time they become more and more proficient and knowledgeable until, in some cases, their avocation becomes their vocation. I envy those people. I’m thinking of the artists, writers, and athletes who have a recreational passion that they stay with for life.
They obviously don’t have an attention span problem (ASP) like I do.
In the last decade or so, I’ve had a number of hobbies and interests.
With my ASP, though, I bounce from interest to interest, much like a teenager changes allegiance to rock groups.
At one time in my life I’ve been passionate about softball, basketball, racquetball, running, and even the dreaded Nordic Track; I’ve also discarded each one. I’ve collected clocks, cigarette lighters, chess sets, bizarre lamps, old radios, junk mail, wild ties, and books about Winston Churchill.
While I still have my collections and periodically add to each of them, most of my collections, like their owner, are relatively inactive.
By the way, I’m still into clocks, especially old electric statue clocks, if you have one in your basement!
A couple of years ago the first wife and I took a clock repair course. I had already accumulated quite a few clocks and, no surprise, most had the correct time only once each day.
It occurred to me that a clock course would be a good way to learn more about clocks and become a better hobbyiest.
The class was beneficial and I learned one important thing. What I learned is that I should never try to repair a clock.
My attention-span was so fleeting that I couldn’t pay attention long enough to learn what I should be doing.
The final night of the clock class was an exam of sorts.
We were given a clock, and had to take it apart and put it back together within 30 minutes.
There were eight of us in the class, and the good news is that at the end of the 30 minutes all eight of us had successfully disassembled and reassembled our clocks.
The bad news is that I was the only one who had some pieces left over.
Even the first wife, the one who considers a toasted bagel to be a warm meal, got her clock to work. That ended my interest in repairing clocks. I had already lost interest in warm meals. Chess used to be a passion of mine, even though I was never very good.
In fact, I kind of consider myself a chess unit of measurement: if you’re not too good, I can probably beat you.
If you’re good, you can definitely beat me. It’s as simple as that. Back in the 70’s, when the Earth was clean and we weren’t worried about cholesterol, I used to play chess through the mail by postcard. “Postal Chess” it was called, and I’d play 15 opponents at once. I liked playing chess and liked getting mail, so it was a perfect combo! I think I lost to 12 or 13 of the opponents though.
It got so bad that on Saturdays the mailman would hand me the mail and say, “Why in the world did you move your rook there? That was a stupid move:’ At least I never met any of the people who trounced me. I’m sure I’d have done better if I would have used the time between sending and receiving a postcard to study the board and plan my next move. Somehow I could never manage to sit still long enough to do that. I no longer play chess through the mail. Technology has come to chess.
I have a portable chess computer, “Kasparov:’ It can be set for any of 17 levels of difficulty, so I’m told. I only think that this is true because I’ve not been able to beat level #3, so I really don’t know whether the higher levels are there or not. I could get better, I’m sure, just by reading a chess book or two, but my ASP prevents me from spending the time that I’d need to improve my game.
It used to aggravate me that I was getting beat by a chess computer whose memory was the size of a pea, but then I figured, hey, it can’t eat pasta or chocolate chip cookies, so what do I care?
A few weeks ago I enrolled in a clay class at Craft Alliance, “Basic Wheel Throwing!’ For me, it’s VERY basic. I’ve been to two classes so far, and other than the first time when I turned on the electric wheel and it threw my hunk of clay across the room, it’s been fun.
The lady who was hit by the piece of clay wasn’t even too upset although two weeks later she still has a small bruise on her arm.
Since I don’t view myself as an artist or even as one who is particularly talented in this area, it doesn’t bother me that other people have already produced these great looking bowls and I’m still trying to keep the clay from flying off the wheel. Heck, I can always buy a plastic bowl.
There are six more classes, but I already feel myself losing interest. Cable television is designed for someone with an ASP.
The quality of the programming is two notches below warm spit, but, there’s more of it, so it’s great! I can sit with my remote unit and BLIP watch some woeful baseball game and BLIP see the Cable Shopping Network Channel and BLIP catch an original Leave It To Beaver and BLIP watch Robin Smith read the news (does anyone else think her hair makes her look like Marge Simpson of the T.V. Simpson?) and BLIP watch roller derby BLIP cable news BLIP a commercial for hair spray BLIP Rambo IX BLIP The Weather Channel BLIP back to Ward and June Cleaver again BLIP an old black and white cowboy movie BLIP some guy with greasy hair on a beach in Hawaii talking about buying real estate with no money down BLIP authentic footage from WWII BLIP a “Cheers” re-run BLIP BLIP BLIP.
Sometimes I scotch-tape the control switch down so that the channels keep flipping over and over, never staying on one station for more than 1 or 2 seconds. It’s not nirvana, but it’s close.
Even my work environment is designed for someone with severe ASP.
On the average day, I don’t go more than two or three minutes without an interruption of some sort.
The job is anything but boring.
And you know me, even if there’s not an interruption, I’ll create one at the four minute mark. There’s a new book out about ASP. It’s called Paying Attention: Taking Charge of Your Life, and is by Dr. Dee Leigh. I’ve gone to Left Bank Books three different times to buy a copy, but each time I wind up finding something else that’s more interesting. Somehow I can’t stay focused. I’m looking forward to setting the new books I purchased by my bedside; I’ve often subscribed to the theory of literary osmosis.
The last time I was in the bookstore I purchased a book about Chinese Cooking.
It sounds fascinating, and I’m going to get into it in a big way. Honest! I plan to move my clock collection to the kitchen so I can do an updated version of Wok Around The Clock. I’m not buying a teflon wok, so maybe I can stick with this hobby. See, there should have been a better ending to this article, but—you guessed it—I’ve already lost interest.
Originally published in The Times of Skinker-DeBaliviere, May 1990.
Read this article in the original newspaper issue.
Original source: SD_Times1990_05.pdf, printed page(s) 8; PDF page(s) 8.
