A Billy Collins Poem

Child Development
As sure as prehistoric fish grew legs and sauntered off the beaches into forests working up some irregular verbs for their first conversation, so three-year-old children enter the phase of name-calling. Every day a new one arrives and is added to the repertoire. You Dumb Goopyhead, You Big Sewerface, You Poop-on-the-Floor (a kind of Navaho ring to that one) they yell from knee level, their little mugs flushed with challenge. Nothing Samuel Johnson would bother tossing out in a pub, but then the toddlers are not trying to devastate some fatuous Enlightenment hack. They are just tormenting their fellow squirts or going after the attention of the giants way up there with their cocktails and bad breath talking baritone nonsense to other giants, waiting to call them names after thanking them for the lovely party and hearing the door close. The mature save their hothead invective for things: an errant hammer, tire chains, or receding trains missed by seconds, though they know in their adult hearts, even as they threaten to banish Timmy to bed for his appalling behavior, that their bosses are Big Fatty Stupids, their wives are Dopey Dopeheads and that they themselves are Mr. Sillypants. Billy Collins |

People Who Get REALLY Involved

I was listening to an interview with Stanley Tucci who played Julia Child's husband in Julia and Julie who said that when he was a kid he and his mother were obsessed with Julia Child. They watched her shows on TV and he confessed that he cried when they were over. Julia herself was obsessed with French cooking. This reminded me of a topic I had thought of for a book many years ago. People who are so involved in some idea, person, sport, music, etc., that this involvement  actually has a strong influence or even dictates the way they live. For a long time.

I remembered another radio interview probably 15 years ago with a man who wanted a certain Elvis collectible and in trying to find it he discovered a man in Virginia who had an Elvis museum in his house. An incredibly complete Elvis museum. He had spent his life collecting these items and I think he had even bought this house so he could keep his collection where he lived. He had traveled all over the country to collect his museum items and was now selling some due to financial problems. Even though I'm not an Elvis freak, I had to admire this guy's determination to have the best Elvis museum he could. It was his life; he had traveled to places he wouldn't have without this interest; he had met people all over the country. Through this slightly nutty fixation, he had enriched his life.

Not long after that, I rode in one of only two elevators left in Cincinnati that had operators. Remember when a person worked the controls to take you up or down and open the door? Well, that was a long time ago. This particular elevator operator had decorated her elevator - and make no mistake - it was her elevator, with items that made it look like a tiny room in a house. A little table and chair for her to sit in, pictures on the walls, a newspaper and books, curtains. It was charming even if slightly odd. Then there is the lady who lives not too far from me who has over 47 ceramic figures in her yard including all seven dwarfs and Cinderella, Pocahontas, donkeys, cowboys, various farm animals and a whole lot more. Tacky, maybe, but imagine her search for all these little statues.How much fun has she had finding this menagerie?

And that's why I am fascinated by such people. They are odd, different, some may say slightly crazy. But look what they can do: Julia Child's obsession taught America to cook, Michael Phelps' single-minded desire to be great won him all those Olympic medals. Oprah's obsession with talking to the world made her rich and helped a lot of people in the process.

Not everyone has such involvement - such passion, but I know some personally, mostly athletes. I know runners who will not miss a day of running no matter the weather. I know cyclists who structure their lives so they can cycle on vacations as well as at home. They buy cars that can carry their bikes, eat food and drink fluids that are supposed to help them perform well on long rides and races, hold endless discussions with other cyclists of their ilk about components and how much they weigh.

But these people aren't the ones I find truly interesting. I have a friend who just loves to cycle because she just loves to cycle. It makes her feel good; she gets to travel to beautiful parts of the country to cycle with friends. She reads books about other people who cycle all over the world. Her bike even has a name. Bicycling is joy for her. That's a healthy passion that changed her life many years ago and has allowed her to live her best life. While I love cycling, it isn't as pure a love as hers. Sometimes I just ride to ride and feel the air flow by me, but most of the time I have another motive - weight loss, cardiovascular fitness, leg strength. However, I'd say cycling is a passion of mine that has influenced the way I live in a good way.

I'm searching for more elevator ladies and Elvis museum guys. They have interesting stories to tell and I want to hear them.