October 8, 2009
“A friend is one before whom I may think aloud."
- Ralph Waldo Emerson (American poet and essayist, 1803-1882)
If one is 3 or 83, one may get away with thinking aloud and saying exactly what one wants.
For the rest of us, we might be well advised to find a soundproof room before we pontificate. That is, unless we have a really, really good friend to cover for us.
Remember the adage, "a real friend will hide you; a true friend will help you hide the body." Seriously, I don't have a body to hide (whew, you say) but I am indeed thinking aloud.
Therefore, dear readers, here are some observations I noted this past week when folks spoke aloud and when I dearly wanted to do the same. I toss them to you and the universe to ponder.
A three-year-old came to visit, entered through our front door, looked around, and declared loudly, "I don't like this house; I like my grandma's." I asked him which grandma, just out of idle curiosity, and he answered without blinking an eye, "The fat one."
An 83-year-old friend, after taking an instant dislike to a new acquaintance, told him as much and added, "What can I say. I'm old. I like who I like."
I'm not giving her a hall pass, but it is refreshing, even cute, to say exactly what one wants, if one is 83 that is. The rest of us could not get away with it. Or could we? I might try.
For some reason in recent days, women far younger than myself (those who must be all of 12) are calling me "honey" and "sweetie" and telling me I am cute. Good grief, I have never been cute in my life, and I don't intend to start being cute now. I am about ready to think aloud to them.
Parenthetically speaking, I don't suppose the 80-year-olds like being called cute any better than we 60-year-olds.
One more story about thinking outloud, and I'll quit.
I was driving through the sleepy, pleasant little town of Aullville, Missouri, last week when I happened to notice the population signs were different on each end of town. If one comes into Aullville from the south, the population sign says 72. If one comes in from the north, the population is stated as 86. Somewhere between those signs are 14 unaccounted for people.
They came in from the north, apparently, but never left from the south. Go figure.
I probably won't mention this aloud to anyone, except maybe my true friend Beth, but somebody in Aullville must have a "super" true friend with a couple of shovels.
