RUDIMENTS 149.

RUDIMENTS, pt. 149

Making Cars

I had a teacher in second grade, 

(I do remember that), Mrs. Schur, 

who cryptically wrote, as a comment, 

on one of my report cards  - second

grade, mind you  -  that 'Gary has 

a problem with questions?' My 

parents tried, in their jumbled way, 

to tell me that was of concern and 

something I should work on (?), 

but no one ever told me what it 

meant  -  like some adult-talk

teacher-lingo, did it mean to say 

I was unable to understand a 

question mark? Didn't know if

something WAS a question?

Wasn't able to answer a question?

Or asked too many questions?

It was all too confusing to me, 

all these foolish adults looking 

back at me with their frizzled

comments. I felt  -  even at that

young age  -  that none of them 

knew what they were talking 

about, ever, and that mostly 

they just role-played these 

really boring character acts. 

I still had a year to go before 

getting conked with that train, 

so I guess I can't blame that. I 

don't know what adults make 

of kids, these days, but back 

then it wasn't much to go on. 

Everything was ordered and 

straight  -  row after row of do's 

and deeds to do. The pleasure 

principle had been left out 

of living. Poor kids. Poor me.

-

I decided, on my own, that 

what she meant was the last 

one I listed up above  - that 

I asked too many questions. 

And I probably did, but I never 

stopped after that either. It 

became almost a spiteful point

of pride from that point. It 

seemed  all I ever got were 

answers to questions I hadn't 

asked, but which conveniently

fit the 'question' they would have 

had me ask instead. I still see a 

lot of that in modern-day junk 

too  -  press-conferences and 

all those political mumbo-jumbo 

confabs where they're all trying 

to impress each other by their 

depressed impression of impressing. 

Go figure that one out, and tell 

it to Mrs. Schur. Just don't 'ask'

about it. Another thing, two things 

actually, that I notice now: the first 

is, back in Avenel School 4&5  - 

my most early educations  -  how 

in actuality, most all of teachers 

were Jewish. I think about it now  

- Schur, Stein, Artym, Roloff, 

Levine, Mudrack, Coyne,Burse, 

to name just a first few  -  and I 

understand how that produces 

a slow, plodding, utterly 

conventional, customary and

conservative education, even 

for little kids. No wonder I had 

problems with questions  -  that 

deep-seated Jewish stuff doesn't 

reflect reality very well, so why 

foist it on kids? And the other 

thing, still funny to this day, is 

how the short-man syndrome 

cracks me up (I'm not tall at all 

myself, but I don't play act the 

parts either. I'm just a bum, and

proudly look it). We had some
goofy, short teachers. It cracks 

me up with I see over-compensatory 

short-guy types go for the waddle-duck, 

muscle-bound, sharp-dresser routine.

I had a brother-in-law once in that 

speed-category, and it was pretty 

funny. But, that's all about the 

most walking knowledge most 

people escape from elementary

 school with anyway. Maybe they 

can read and so some numbers 

too. I said maybe.

-

One thing that hit me, pretty early

on though not in elementary school, 

was this idea I had  -  it was kind of 

a dense, cosmic idea, but it connected

to reality pretty well, and I guess could

have been a question, one too many, had

I uttered it. I was curious how, like as,

say, my father was driving along, he'd

a turn signal on, to signal an intention

of turning, and that would produce the

clicking noise of the signal relay. And

outside of the noise of that signal,

the oncoming driver or the driver 

behind, would get the message, see

the blinking light, etc., and the human

mind would factor all that into a recognition

pattern and allow and accept that 'turn.'

It was all unspoken, but it worked. I

could never understand why the

human wasn't equipped as well, in

that way : picture how, when you see

someone, gazes meet, whatever, along

the way, anywhere, how greatly

different and satisfying, in its way,

for some palpable sound to be

generated, acknowledging a kinship,

or some sort of 'kindred' moment.

Why must we go about our days

in that doleful silence of not being

able or willing to express to others 

what we felt? At the level, I mean,

a deep and almost spiritual, level.

Not like 'yeah, you're a jerk,' or

anything like that. I mean instead 

the interior freight of our intuitive

innards. There are plenty of those

connections around us. Because 

we remain blind (or deaf, in this 

context), our moments, and so 

many lives, get screwed up. I

think it would be so cool, a world

where all those noises resounded.

And I bet we'd have a lot more

peace and happiness too.

-

And lastly, another thing I'd ask 

about, to myself, and anywhere 

else but never getting an explanation, 

was on the subject of what's been 

called 'Evolution.' Stuff like that 

just doesn't really exist  - I'd ask, 

of those people who say Mankind 

evolved from fish in the sea, aquatic 

creatures, crawling up as legs 

were developed and fins and 

gills replaced and developed 

into legs and arms and lungs, 

and eyes took proportion and 

all that. Sitting down to eat, 

when I ate fish, it was white 

meat, fish, and flaky, and broke 

apart to the fork and all. Whereas 

meat was meat  -  a hunk, sinuous, 

unified. How then, and when, 

and by what means did that 

changeover occur? All I ever 

was told was that the fish aspect 

breathed with gills and therefore 

oxygen permeated everything, 

producing a whiter, lighter, 

flakier 'version' of the 'meat' 

matter of fish  -  so that in 

essence they were both pretty 

much different versions of the 

same thing. Yeah, right. I 

wanted to say that I detected 

a magic hand here that they 

may have been overlooking 

or avoiding. But I never did; 

too much to ask. Got a
problem with that?