Kahve Chronicles – 8

Thinking is dangerous business.
I was good at many things, before my encounter with Réne-the-I-think-therefore-I-am-syllogism freak
Since then, my life has been an unmitigated series of failures that landed me in my present vocation
A Full Professor with tenure at a prestigious university – I will protect the innocent by naming no names

Once I was really good at ping pong, at least for my age
Soon I figured, my three older brothers did not think so
I always ended up being the last to pickup the rackets and the first to set them down
One day, I got so mad that I threw the rackets at them and their fem companions, I needed to move on

This was just one of my well-meaning demonstrations of skill, many of which bore similar fruit
Therefore, I decided to become good at making things rather than breaking them.
I cut branches off of trees in our yard and made bows, arrows, and sling shots
I did not know what else to do with a pocket knife, twine, and an old inner tube of my bicycle tire

This vocation also came to an unceremonious end
Despite my mother’s heroic efforts, my father discovered the use I got out of my craftsmanship
With an arrow, I had almost poked the eye off of my best friend
Further, I had distressed countless innocent birds with rocks slung from my sling. So, I moved on.

When I became a father, I had to prove to my father that not all craftsmanship was harmful.
On my basement workbench, I built two sleds from recycled wood planks using only hand held tools
I was proud of my achievement; my children, not jaded by deep thought, saw clearly what I had done.
They were too embarrassed even to come anywhere near my crafty creations

So we drove to Home Depot
Purchased sleds made out of a polymer engineered in some chemical plant
All for a fraction of the cost of the paint I would have had to use on my wooden sleds
My father never got to observe my demonstration that craftsmanship can be rewarding for Home Depot

I moved on and became an architect believing like everyone else that it is a most fulfilling profession
Becoming a doctor was far too time consuming and costly
And as one of my acquaintances said about his father’s legal profession
“The difference between Lawyer and liar is a mere nuance in the art of pronunciation”

I soon discovered that architects are underpaid, overworked, and poorly treated
Respectively, developers and contractors have the first and the last say
Architects, somewhere in the middle, are squeezed into the realm of the insignificant
With compromised designs, mounting insurance costs, and increasing risks of litigation.

So what’s a guy – or a canine – to do?
At each turn I abandoned my evocations because I thought too much about them
I figured out what I was doing wrong; better yet, what was wrong with the world
Thus, I had failed utterly in the real world and I was perfectly primed for a career in academia.

I talked eloquently about failure, fiction, and fiasco as the very best lessons from which to learn
Students followed my impassioned admonition like the bear-children following those of Papa Bear
My colleagues’ tales of failure outdid mine with spectacular success – a topic for another chronicle.
I earned my tenure and promotion gratefully, placing a permanent distance between thought and action

Now, I have a lot of time to think
I rarely play ping pong or make sling shots any more
I talk a lot about the pleasures and perils of doing so, and have the full attention of innocent minds
Attached to ears that suck up my words like movie projectors going through rolls of cellulose acetate

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