This picture that I painted in the 80's reminds me of just how powerful a
man's natural sense of direction is...although it seems to drive our
wives crazy when we practice it on our travels. Yes,
I call mine "Divine Sense Of Direction" and have pretty well convinced
young kids that it is magic. Unfortunately Denise insists on using
the GPS thingy m doodle,but personally I still rely on checking which
side of the tree moss grows, which way honey bees fly away, the
direction of ducks and geese flying either North or South (which narrows
the directions down and leaves out East and West), the direction the
prevailing wind is blowing aginst a wet finger and finally, most
important of all, putting your head down on a train rail to listen to
see if a train is coming, which almost got me killed last time because I
am about three quarters deaf you know and I forgot to take that into
consideration, and a train bout run me over. Them modern GPS'ers were
invented by some wife somewhere that got tired of a two hour trip taking
half a day and then having to start over from point A to make it to
point B. Almost every wife, at one time or another while traveling in
circles, has said to her husband, "Dear, why don't we stop and ask
directions?", seemingly not understanding that this option flies in the
face of a mans very important feeling of being a, "Manly Man". A "Manly
Man" does not do certain things, such as wear boxer underwear in pastel
colors, take off your white socks and barefoot put on a pair of fancy
slip on slippers, have someone else cut your toe nails, paying good
money for what they call a Ped-i-cure, when a good pair of wire cutters
will do the same thing, wearing them shorts with real loose legs that
come down past your knees and getting them a half size bigger than you
need so they will ride down on your hips and show your pastel colored
boxer shorts, "Manly Men" all have their eggs over easy, their bacon
well done along with their well done hash browns and when they get
through they can drink the hot grease right from the skillet without
hardly a whimper or maybe just screaming a little bit for a minute or
two. Yessir, "Manly Men" don't need to ask no stinking directions from
some foreigner who ain't even from around here. Why the last time
Denise and I were coming down from Wisconsin pulling for home on a down
hill slide, i, being a "Manly Man" of some repute, decided not to go the
same route that we have gone for years making this trip. I was to use
my natural, "Divine Sense Of Direction" that some men are just born
with. I proved that I still got "it", the trip that is usually 714
miles, turned out to be 920 miles this time, and 4 1/2 hours longer but
by golly I pulled it right into our driveway just as straight and pretty
as can be, much to the irritation of that female voice on the GPS that
must have said, "Recalculating" at least 500 times, as I made my "Manly
Man" decisions to ignore her and go my own "divine" way. Yessir, you
got to be tough to be a "Manly Man". But, at least you don't have to
wear boxers in pastel colors. To "Manly Men" wherever you might be
wandering lost today, hang in there boys and keep on truckin', cause it
ain't the trip that's important...it's getting there at long last on
your very own powers of direction. -Stan
No comments:
Post a Comment