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Our World December 25, 2005  RSS feed

Truth or eggnog...

THE IDLE AMERICAN
DON NEWBURY

Though his mind is not always engaged, his mouth is always in gear. Though his mind is not always engaged, his mouth is always in gear. Uncle Mort called the other day to wish me “a Happy New One.” He doesn’t own a phone out in his wilderness where daylight is piped in, so calls are rare, and on someone else’s dime.

But on the flip side, where he abides in the thicket, there’s tranquility others mostly dream about, and he’s 100% content to watch the rest of the world go by….

+++

He announced his arrival at the cross roads general store, where his plan was to cozy up to a cane-bottom chair.

But, a fancy car at the gas pump caught his eye. He quickly sized up the driver who was flashing a fancy cell phone. The man had no notion that he was being sized up….

+++

“Bet your gas bills set you back,” Mort laughed, inhaling deeply. “I’m powerful proud there ain’t no charge for sniffing; I come down here to get a few free ‘whiffs’ whether I buy a couple of gallons or not.”

His mindless chatter was so much smoke-blowing; he was zeroing in on a free phone call….

+++

“Surprised your phone works all the way out here in the sticks,” he said.

The visitor, intrigued by this Dog Patch figure, tossed him the phone. “Try it out,” he said….

+++

So Uncle Mort dialed me up. In seconds we finished the “how’re you doin’” stuff.

Settling back, I was ready for the inevitable ramblings to follow. This time, they were more “hither and yon” than usual; maybe he’d taken on too much eggnog….

+++ “Have you been listening to the Saddam Hussein trial on the shortwave?” he asked, sputtering about the proceedings running no risk of being called democratic.

“What can you expect when he places his right hand on the Koran and promises to tell the truth, half-truth or shreds of truth, so help him Muhammed?” Mort wondered….

+++

Though his mind is not always engaged, his mouth is always in gear. He’s quick to spot opportunities for laughter, often at others’ expense.

A few years ago, I kidded that his yakking was driving me crazy. “That’s not a drive, it’s a putt,” he countered, laughing so that he almost forgot to change the subject….

+++

“Y’all taken any trips?” he asked. I knew this meant Uncle Mort was about to unload on me about his travels.

“I rode the bus across six states,” he bragged. “Covered 2,500 miles in six days….”

+++

He mentioned the sign at the New Mexico state line that welcomes visitors to the “Land of Enhancement.”

It was tempting to ask him if the slogan might be “Land of Enchantment,” but what would that have proven?...

+++

I wanted to cut him some slack. Perhaps his five-and-dime store spectacles failed. Or, maybe the pharmaceutical commercials are blanketing shortwave radio, too.

Speculation, of course, is pointless. Uncle Mort’s mind is always made up, and, like the song, “he shall not be moved.”

“The pharmaceutical moguls and tourist bureau people are in cahoots,” he reasoned…. +++

Topics quickly shifted. He predicted that attendance will be dismal for King Kong. “A big, bad monkey scared the beejeebers out of us back in ’33,” he said. “Why would we want to be scared in a remake running twice as long? They should have called it The Kong Who Would be King, or maybe Prince Kong or even Gong Kong.

Then he pooh-poohed reports about the new bird flu vaccine, wondering how are they going to get the birds to take the shots?…

+++

Uncle Mort’s thoughts swung to employment. “With them pirates taking in after cruise ships sailing around Africa, there’s going to be a need for marksmen to defend the boats,” he opined.

“If I was younger, I’d practice marksmanship and hire out as a tail gunner on a cruise ship….”

+++

He had more to say, but the driver claimed to be in a hurry, trying to make Amarillo by morning. Said he faced a long road ahead with miles and miles of nothing but miles and miles. (I can imagine considerable watch-fidgeting, and the motorist finally driving away with Uncle Mort muttering something about nobody having to be anywhere.)

The befuddled driver stood little chance of making Amarillo by morning. It would be late morning, at best. More likely, the sun would be sliding well into the p.m. side of the sky….

+++

Dr. Newbury is a speaker and author. His column appears in 125 newspapers in six states. He welcomes comments/inquiries by phone, 817-447-3872, or by email, newbury@ speakerdoc.com His website is www.speakerdoc.com


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