BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

Or, When The Hair Gets In Your Eyes…

I had myself one of those deja vu flashback sort of things happen the other day… But, we’ll get to that in a minute. Right now I have to take you on a nostalgic tour of my brain in order to confuse, befuddle, bewilder, and otherwise create massive amounts of obfuscation, all in order to make the punch line even funnier… I hope.

So… Buckle up. Here we go…

Some of you may or may not know that I write my blogs in advance. Sort of a “whenever the mood strikes” type of thing. And, in addition to that if I happen to come up with an idea, but don’t have time to actually write the entry in its entirety, I will make notes. These notes will then end up as “draft” copies of blog entries, complete with titles and a few notes in the body to remind me what it is I wanted to write about in the first place.

Suffice it to say, you are going to discover that the aforementioned deja vu flashback actually occurred better than a year ago.

Now, let’s go over here and see what’s happening in my right brain…

Martha Ackmann is an author, journalist, editor and speaker.  I know this because it says so right there on her bio. If you don’t trust me, follow the link and have a look for yourself… I’ll wait right here for you. I promise. No, really. I promise…

Done? Good. See there, I was telling the truth, wasn’t I? Uh-huh…

Okay, let’s move on…

For me personally, Martha Ackmann is much more than what it says in her bio, because to put it very simply she was also a mentor of sorts. You see, way back in the stone age – that being when I was in high school – Martha, or “Ma” as we liked to call her, was my Journalism teacher. While I was only blessed with a few semesters of her tutelage, she literally taught me more about Journalism and writing in that short time than I ever gleaned from any other classes, high school and college combined. Seriously. I’m not trying to blow smoke up anyone’s anything. She is literally that spectacular.

To give you an illustration of what a tremendous teacher she is, in addition to instructing a bunch of whacked out, pimple faced teenagers in the finer points of writing and Journalism, shepherding us into and through competitions such as those held by the MIPA (Missouri Interscholastic Press Association), and chaperoning us at the JEA (Journalism Education Association) convention, “Ma” was also responsible for the creation of our high school radio station, KRSH (now KRHS)… Oh, and by the way – those competitions? We always came home with awards. While I like to think we all had a little bit of talent, the real credit goes to “Ma”, because she was responsible for teaching us how to use it. (By the way – don’t hurt yourself looking for me in the above picture. I was the guy behind the camera. I did, however, bring home an award from that MIPA conference. Martha, however, is the one with the grin on her face – second from the left against the back wall. Rumor has it she was kind of proud of us that day because – and I quote from the newspaper clipping – “Ritenour students won more broadcasting awards than any other students in the state.”)

Now, since she created our little 10 watt FM station, and acted as our staff adviser, those of us who put in time there were treated to even more learning opportunities. While we did in fact have an AP newswire teletype terminal in the station, “Ma” would never allow “rip and read” – that being the process of “ripping” the pages off the teletype and “reading” them verbatim on the air. No, we were expected to pick out the pertinent points of the story from the newswire copy, then write our own original lead and nut-graph. In short, she taught us to be reporters, not talking heads. We would sometimes grumble about it at the time – after all, who were we, a bunch of high school kids, to be re-writing copy that had already been produced by professionals? But looking back on those days, it was worth every second we spent, because we learned more from that exercise than any textbook could ever teach. What we didn’t realize at the time was that she was teaching us to be those professionals.

I could go on telling stories about the things we learned, and how we even managed to scoop AND upstage a local television station – all because of what “Ma” had taught us, not the least of which was professionalism. However, I will save some of those for a different blog or two… Right now, let’s bounce forward in time just a bit and see if we can eventually tie all this together. Hang on, because as usual there will be whiplash involved…

I’m assuming everyone has seen The Incredibles?

If not, well, you should. Fun movie. At any rate, the reason I bring this up is that there is a character named Violet. She is filled with teenage angst, and wears her hair hanging down mostly over her face. It’s sort of a visual metaphor to illustrate the angst and insecurity she is experiencing at that awkward age. At least, that’s what I gleaned from it. Maybe she was actually just hiding a zit and I’m reading too much into the characterization.

But, I digress…

I can hear you now. “But… But… What the hell does any of this have to do with your mentor, Murv?”

Well, I’m glad you asked. Here’s the thing – My 10 year old daughter does the same thing with her hair. It hangs down in her face and just drives us nuts (her teachers too). Apparently she can see just fine – if her grades are any indication. But, the rest of us on the other side of the follicular curtain have no clue how she manages it. I suppose she might have some sheepdog in her somewhere, but  I’m thinking it would have to come from E Kay’s side. But, don’t tell The Evil One I said that, okay?

Anywho, the other day I was doing the typical parental complaining at the O-spring regarding said hair. After all, as a parent it is a moral imperative that I do so. Finally, in exasperation, I threatened her with the fact that I was considering grabbing a “chip clip” from the potato chip bag in the kitchen and affixing her hair back out of her eyes with it.

As the words flew out of my mouth a long forgotten memory rose the the surface and began pummeling me about my head and shoulders. Yeah… This is where “Ma” comes back into the story.

Back in seventy-koff-koff, as I sat in the main studio of KRSH, reading news on the air, Martha was staring at me through the control room window. I had no clue what I’d done, or not done, but she had one of “those looks” on her face. If you don’t know the look of which I speak, well, I’m not sure what to say. I guess you had to be there and know “Ma”. But, when she had one of “those looks” we all knew she was either disappointed in us (deservedly, I assure you), torqued at something, or was up to some kind of mischief. At any rate, as soon as I finished the headlines and “tossed it” to the engineer for a recorded PSA break (Public Service Announcement), and the mics were dead, “Ma” disappeared. Before the first PSA was finished playing, the door to the studio opened and in she marched. Without saying a single word she pulled my hair back out of my face and clipped it to the top of my head with a large, spring binder clip. Then, still mute, she turned on her heel and exited.

Let me tell you, I finished the broadcast with the clip still in my hair, and even waited 10 minutes after I was off-air before I even thought about taking it out.

As it happens, it wasn’t very long after I had this flashback that Martha and I  ran into one another on Facebook, which was a great bit of serendipity. I say that because I was afforded the opportunity to tell her how important she had been in shaping my life and career. I mean, after all, writing became my profession, and I attribute much of that to her.

But, just as important, she is directly responsible for another skill set that I hadn’t realized I might one day need – I know how to do impromptu hairstyling with a paperclip.

Thanks, Ma. In your honor, I’m passing the knowledge along to a new generation…

More to come…

Murv

Note: Martha Ackmann wrote a wonderful non-fiction book titled, The Mercury 13, about women pilots involved in the early days of the Mercury space program. I highly recommend it. Her latest book is Curveball: The Remarkable Story of Toni Stone.

Here’s the deal… I don’t lie so good.*

Well, let me qualify that… You see I don’t lie so good in person. I lie great on paper. Do it all the time. Hell, I’ve got 9 complete volumes of almost 100% pure fabrication available in bookstores with a 10^th on the way later this year. So, like I said, it’s the whole in person lying thing that doesn’t work out well for me.

And, I guess that’s why I simply could not believe I was getting away with it.

“Getting away with what?” you ask.

We’ll get to that in a bit… First I should warn you that we need to chase a random chicken or two in order set the table… Of course, you already knew that would happen, didn’t you?

Here’s the deal – I’ve given this whole lying thing a lot of thought. Now, don’t get me wrong, I was brought up to be truthful, and that’s exactly the kind of value system I am trying to instill in my offspring. But, after ruminating long and hard on the subject, I’ve concluded that there are two sub-classes of lie that are ethically permissible under particularly defined circumstances.

The first is kind of obvious – we all know that there is that occasional, proverbial “white lie” that gets told, even by the most honest person. Sometimes it’s a minor twist of words, and other times it could merely be a lie of omission – for example, kind of like when I didn’t tell E K she had forgotten to put the tuna in the tuna helper – (Young And In Lust… I mean, Love… 01/11/2009). Know what I mean? I “kinda lied” for the express purpose of saving her embarrassment. It was one of those untruths you have to use every now and then to simply avoid hurting someone’s feelings, and by default they come under the heading of tact. Therefore, if used properly they can be forgiven. Yeah… Basically “tact lies” are like “free lies”. No dogma or anything such as that attached, because it usually affects more good than harm. That’s what makes it a “white lie”. Of course, they are only sans dogma if you follow the rules.

Granted, even “tact lies” sometimes backfire, or even glance harmlessly off the target and fall by the wayside. If you let them spin out of control, however, they could detonate in the wrong place at the wrong time, and you never know who might get hurt, so you have to be careful. For instance, there are times when you might well be better off to just bite the bullet and tell Aunt Bernice that her “Famous Candied Turnip Upside Down Pickle Relish Tart” really isn’t a family favorite and you wish she’d stop serving it to you, especially since it sent everyone to the hospital emergency ward the last go around. But, you should always keep in mind that these are judgment calls. If you aren’t going to suffer any ill effects from said foodstuff, and you don’t want to make Aunt Bernice cry or anything such as that, it might be prudent to invoke the “tact lie”. There are times when you just need to say, “This is delicious,” choke it down and smile, then feed the remainder to the family pet while Auntie is out of the room.

But, this first classification really isn’t the issue here… Read on…

The second class of permissible deception is, of course, lies told in the commission of a practical joke. Now, I’m not talking about practical jokes like the kind the underwear model from “That 70’s Show” does on TV. I personally find those to be completely ridiculous. Therefore, it is important to remember that these lies are bound by even stricter regulations than “tact lies.” You see, with the “practical joke deception lie” the fun needs to be harmless. Yes, by its very nature said fun is going to be at the expense of someone else, however you need to be absolutely positive that they will be willing to pay that price. What I mean is, you simply have to be cognizant of whether or not the dupe / mark / “victim” is going to find the joke funny, or be hurt physically or emotionally. If either of the latter is going to be the case, then the fun isn’t really harmless, is it?

Now, the exception to this is a state of agitation we will call “momentarily miffed”. Generally, this is okay, in my book at least, primarily because my definition of the phrase is, “a split second of prime annoyance that immediately turns into laughter because the situation is just so damned funny.”

So, unless I have missed my guess, I think you’ve probably figured out by now that what I was amazed to be “getting away with” was a “practical joke deception lie”. If you haven’t picked up on that, start back at the beginning and read very slowly. If it still doesn’t dawn on you, simply drop me a line and I’ll send E K over to explain it. Note that if you choose the latter option you should be absolutely certain that your health insurance premiums are up to date, as E K can be somewhat intense with her explanations, especially if she thinks you are merely being stubborn or not paying attention.

So, now that we’ve fricasseed that chicken, let’s run over to the other side of the yard and chase that Rhode Island Red over there. Trust me, I’ll eventually get back around to the bucket of extra crispy I sat out on the table at the beginning. I always do…

I need to take this opportunity to point out that I’m not an actor.

First off, I don’t have the looks. But mostly, I simply don’t have the talent. It’s just one of those things. You either have it or you don’t. Once upon a time I actually did have it, but then I lost it at a very early age, somewhere along Purchase Parkway in Kentucky, but that’s not even a chicken, that’s an opossum, so we’ll follow it a different time.

Back to that acting thing – when I was in high school I was actually a member of the Drama Club. Mrs. Osthoff, our faculty advisor, was terrific. She made the whole process fun for everyone involved, no matter what the level of talent, and strived to make each student feel important. But, whenever time rolled around for us to do a school play, I was always the groomsman and never the groom. What I mean is, I was customarily tagged to be the “student director” instead of onstage talent. As far as any type of onstage part, if I was especially lucky I would be cast as the “only, and I mean only if everyone else is sick or dead, last resort understudy” for the least significant and smallest role in the play. Yeah… The likelihood of me seeing costume and makeup was actually less than me being able to get a date with a cheerleader. (Although, I did eventually marry one – okay E K likes to point out that she wasn’t a cheerleader, she was on the drill team – close enough in my book, so maybe the above wasn’t the best analogy…)

But, I digress…

Like I said, Mrs. Osthoff was good for making everyone feel important, so she painted a vivid picture of the necessity for a student director, and in doing so shored up my self-esteem. Still, I wasn’t exactly stupid. I also took it as a fine piece of anecdotal evidence that served to tell me I was never going to be hitchhiking to Hollywood and making a name for myself – at least, not on the silver screen.

However, as with many other rules, this one had an exception. In my case, it was radio. You see, as I’ve mentioned before our school had a student run radio station. Of course, the transmitter was low power so on a clear day if you had a high end stereo system, a kite attached to it by 1000 feet of 16 gauge braided copper wire, an entire 75 yard role of aluminum foil that was crumpled into a Buckminster Fullerine type of configuration and tied to the kite’s tail, then held your head cocked to the left with your tongue sticking out “just so,” you could actually tune in KRSH-FM to catch a program or two. But, this would only work while standing on top of the Chuck-A-Burger, which was positioned diagonally across the street from the school.

Okay, so maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration. Truth is we had relatively solid broadcast range of about 1 mile, give or take. After that it started getting a bit dicey and a good FM antenna was definitely a must. But, I suppose I should move on. What I’m driving at is the fact that one of the things the drama club did in addition to the annual stage play was the re-creation of old “Shadow” radio plays. Yeah, “who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men, yadda yadda…” That “shadow”. The funny thing is, whenever we would record a radio play, I seemed to suddenly come into my own.

What I mean by that is, I would be cast in a major role. In fact, I was always cast as the villain of the particular episode we were taping. I can still remember the first role I had – I was an aspiring mystery writer turned burgeoning, sociopathic, paranoid-schizophrenic almost serial killer.

Hm… That kind of explains some stuff, doesn’t it?

Still, what this illustrated was that I did in fact have some minor sort of acting props. Just not if you could actually see me. Of course, as years wore on and I learned more and more about body language and the like, so I suspect I’d be a bit better at it now than I was back then. Not that I have any intention of trying, mind you. I’m definitely still not an actor, especially in close quarters.

You see, I have been told that no matter what the timbre of my voice, the posture with which I stand, or the gestures I make – or even, don’t make – my eyes give me away. I’m not entirely sure what it is about my eyes that betray the fact that I am spinning a yarn or hiding a truth. I suppose it could be that they are brown, and the old adage says that having brown eyes means you are full of sh*t.  Who knows?

All I can say is that I was told this by a girlfriend way back when, so I took it to heart. Back before E K and I got together, I had a tendency to wear sunglasses – or at the very least, tinted lenses – constantly. This annoyed her because it made it hard for her to “read me”… But, back then, since I was worshiping her from afar, I didn’t want to risk her catching on to the fact that I had fallen for her.

Okay… Now that the table is set, is everyone ready for that bucket of extra crispy?

Good… So, I’m sure you are wondering just exactly what it is I was lying about.

Why, Tupperware, of course…

More to come…

Murv

… To be continued in – But, It Was Right Here…

* Yes, I know “so good” should be “very well.” Don’t make me repeat my disclaimer, because if you do I’m gonna send E K after you.