EVOLUTION OF A SMART ALECK

Catch Jim’s podcast: https://youtu.be/ZwiwruUnRFc

or read his transcript below:

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Life, actually…

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EVOLUTION OF A SMART ALECK

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Maturity is highly overrated, according to Garfield the cartoon cat.

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Dipping back into the far past, long before Garfield existed, I find myself remembering how I learned to be noticed once in a while. Living within a family of two parents, five kids and various pets and neighbors and relatives, one must be clever but never destructive when vying for position.

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If I make a scene, throw a tantrum, spout something outrageous, mistreat siblings, I will never hear the end of it. But if I can capture interest, engage everybody in a special activity or diversion, attention will be briefly paid.

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Briefly-paid attention from others is my basic need as a child, my basic need to this day.

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I notice that the most insignificant things often rise up and become big-time important for a few seconds if properly executed.

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For instance, if I run through the house hoisting a large hosepipe attached to a vacuum machine, announcing, “I’m going to pressure wash my teeth. Be back in a minute!” I might receive a modicum of attention. Those familiar with my behavior will barely blink, those who do not know me might panic or duck for cover. Or laugh.

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If on the other hand I simply mention that I’m about to brush my teeth, no-one will notice or care.

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But wait—there’s more. If I say, “I think I’ll go to the bathroom and scrub my teeth,” people may look at me peculiarly but immediately continue their daily routines.

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To gain attention and a few laughs, I might yell, “It’s time for me to brush my nose and blow my teeth.” At that point I become the family entertainer. People might pause and wait to see what else I’m going to do—just in case it turns out to be funny.

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And so on.

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My main goal in life is to be so invisible that I can quietly take notes and write about everything that goes on, everything that does not go on, everything that I wish would go on, everything I wish would never go on.

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Invisibility is comforting. It is my cloak, my blankie.

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Now and then, I must emerge from invisibility to enjoy contact with other humans. This is when I find my smart aleck behavior to be useful. I can enjoy the interactions but I can also quickly vanish when enough is enough.

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Does this make any sense? If not, you too can escape me by descending into your own private briar patch. You don’t have to put up with people like me.

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I just provided you with an escape hatch.

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You’re welcome

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© Jim Reed 2025 A.D.

MISSING MOM

Catch Jim’s 3-minute podcast: https://youtu.be/L82c5XuCzNM

or read the transcript below:

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Life, actually…

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MISSING MOM

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I know where you live, Mom.

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Even though you have been out of sight for many decades, it is still quite wonderful to know that you haven’t really gone missing.

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I know where you live now. I know I can visit with you at will. I know you are always present, even though you are invisible.

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I thank you, Mom, for working overtime some 83 years…working overtime to make daily donations to the nurture and well-being and wisdom of the family you never gave up on.

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Even when there were gaps in my attentions and intentions, I loved you every day you were here on Earth. Your presence was so powerful, your influence so unflagging, that you remained my overseer, my guiding light, my shepherd, for all those years.

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The greatest gift I ever received from you, Mom, was the gift of attention, the kind of loving and ever-present attention that all good and able moms provide to their offspring.

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I took you for granted in a special way, a loving way. That’s because you were always in my corner, forever supportive of even my silliest endeavors, always waiting for my reappearance…always ready to share my rants and raves and gossips and concerns.

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Let’s face it, Mom. You were just the perfect Mom for a kid like me.

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And thanks, Mom, for being present in heart and memory. Thanks for remaining safely inside me. Thanks for being the sum total of all that is good in me. I need you every day.

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I will be your escort through all the days that remain

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© Jim Reed 2025 A.D.

ANTIDOTE CEILING

Listen to Jim:

or read on…

ANTIDOTE CEILING

 

“Resentment is like drinking poison

and waiting for the other person to die.”

–Carrie Fisher

 

Lying here in the darkened room on my freshly-made bed, staring at the stars projected on the ceiling by my Spitz Junior Planetarium, I silently ponder the Universe, and the Universe silently and dispassionately ignores me.

 

When I was young and green and burdened with the implanted beliefs of the people in my little world, I could actually delude myself into thinking that all’s well that ends well, that it’s easy to whistle a happy tune whenever I feel afraid, that if you do unto others they will do likewise unto you, that if you’re really good and search hard for your mittens you’ll get some pie.

 

I know now, ruminating and reminiscing, that none of the above will necessarily happen. I know now that not everything ends well—but sometimes it does, that if you whistle past the graveyard, you may still be frightened—but sometimes not, that if you practice the Golden Rule, others will seldom practice it right back—but now and then somebody might, that if you work hard and do good deeds you may never, ever be rewarded—but once in a while it can happen.

 

I’m also in the process of trying to digest the immutable fact that I should be mature enough to find satisfaction in the good things that occur spasmodically and unpredictably, that I shouldn’t spend much of my time resenting the good stuff that doesn’t happen, the bad stuff that often happens.

 

When will I stop taking the poison?

 

When will I realize that accentuating the positive is the antidote, that eliminating the negativity is required to live a peaceful life?

 

And, once I realize this, when will I learn to forget and truly forgive—which are one and the same thing? Remembrance is a burden sometimes.

 

But now, as I grow, remembrance is the sweetest thing in the starry-ceiling Universe

 

© Jim Reed 2025 A.D.