Column: Chew On This
I swear I had the least imaginative childhood out of anyone I know.
When all the other kids were conjuring up cardboard time machines and digging for ancient treasure, for years I generally sat nearby in my own world, twiddling my thumbs. Granted per challenge of my father, I was attempting to accomplish the feat of twiddling each thumb in the opposite direction.
It was hard.
You try it. I still can’t do it!
The lack of a deft imagination gave me trouble in school when teachers assigned us to write a paragraph based on an open-ended question.
“What do you want to be when you grow up?”
The normal kids made up their minds about neat career choices such as an archaeologist, fireman or astronaut.
Even the odd, hairy kid in the corner who just grunts nervously all day was probably on to something when he decided it would be cool to be an armadillo.
My brother wanted to be a policeman. Albeit he desired to be a bicycle cop, it was still a decent response.
I only really remember what I didn’t want to be. I didn’t want to be a doctor – too messy. I didn’t want to be a garbage man – too smelly. I most certainly didn’t have a desire to be the guy who sucks all of the goop out of portable toilets – too poopy.
There is, however, documented evidence indicating what I wanted to be when I was a little tyke. Apparently, out of all the neat choices available, when I was little, I had great aspirations to be an airport bus driver.
Woohoo!
I don’t know what I was thinking. The highlight of a work day would be perpetually “accidentally” missing the Lufthansa stop and watching the group of Scandinavian tourists go nuts as we keep circling the airport loop over and over again.
As cruel as the career question was for an unimaginative child, I more thoroughly despised the other devilish question teachers always asked.
“What did you do over Christmas vacation?”
If there were one good motivation for setting off the fire alarm, this would have been the time to do it.
I mean, seriously, my essay would look like this:
What I did over Christmas vacation
by Garrett Wheeler
Christmas was fun. I got presents from Santa. He never finishes the cookies we leave for him. My brother beat me up because I got a skateboard and he didn’t. I twiddled my thumbs a lot.
The end.
I hated writing and I hated talking about what I did on vacation because, A) I forgot, and B) Had I remembered, my brother knocking the snot out of me would have made me forget anyway.
Because making up stuff was too much work, I wish now that I had learned the art of embellishment much earlier. Then my essay would have looked more like this:
What I did over Christmas vacation
by Garrett Wheeler
Christmas was rip-snortingly awesome! I got mounds of presents from Santa. I don’t really think he exists, but as long as the loot keeps coming every year, I’ll still set out some cookies to curb his munchies.
Speaking of which, Santa never finishes the cookies we leave for him. Lucky for him, though. This year I laced them with arsenic.
If he comes back with a tummy ache, he’d better bring me the Nintendo I asked for, or I may not consider relinquishing the antidote.
My brother got a little jealous and beat me up because I got a skateboard. Guess he’s getting tired of all the kids at school picking on him for having My Little Pony roller skates.
The neighborhood kids were playing with their stupid cardboard box and digging around in the dirt again.
Playing “pretend” is really dumb, so I twiddled my thumbs a lot. Still can’t get the opposite direction thing down.
Damn.
The end.
Surely my teacher would feel compelled to award me with an “A” for effort. Well maybe an “A-” because I used a curse word. Damn.
Unfortunately as an unimaginative child, I had to live with getting Ds on my essays. Fortunately now in college, a “D” means “Diploma!”
I just hope a college degree will yield a more promising future than being an airport bus driver.
Of course, I could always give the armadillo thing a try.
Garrett Wheeler is a second
bachelor’s student in technical
theatre design. Send any
comments or questions
to wheel@cc.usu.edu.