Meet The Parents

No. 25 of 31 - Thermometer series

I'm looking forward to the day they make a movie about this blog series: Local Boy Starts With Nothing, claws his way up through the ranks (a lot easier than I thought) until he’s the Benevolent Blogger who see here today, trusting that with his stash of thermometers we will at long last see another moonshot! They will register massive popularity.

If prologue indeed is epilogue, the rest has to be good. And I’ve long been noted for absolute quality, not mincing words but putting it out there, laying it smack dab on the line, no retreats, no backpedaling, giving no quarter but expecting many, leaving my all on the altar. Then carrying home more bounty than I left with. There’s so many plaudits flowing my way, folks, I’m nearly sick of the attention. I must have refuge away somewhere. I must have peace. Give me a world of my own and I’ll do something with it, even if it’s just sleep in a tent and gaze at the moon.

The mist starts to settle, the night haze rests over a humble abode, my little tent. The moon makes its way wherever it goes, across the sky, all unpredictable except to those given to the study of moon manuals and star charts. But I’m content to be surprised: “Put it wherever it goes and if it moves I’ll find it when I can. Just let me sleep, perhaps to dream, to yearn, to long for a better world.”

As I doze, a blessed vision of my parents meeting each other for the first time floods my senses. Pretty much as I expected, the details must not be divulged. As for the rest, it’s interesting only to myself. No one wants to know about a guy’s parents' small talk in visionary form. They looked at each other, were enchanted by what they saw and went from there. Young and very much in love, so now what? “Let’s get married and start a family. We’ll get him a midline computer and see what he does with a blog.” At that time I cooed and cried, ate and slept by night, then in the day stocked my room -- little more than tiny infant quarters -- with boxes and crates of mostly-unopened thermometers. But I was extremely young and didn't have the experience one needs to follow through on his higher desires. I loved Popeye.

My parents were compatible, physiologically and emotionally, each with the same essential interests and flair. Dad was more a man of the priestly robes, given to the expression of soaring words on the nature of existence and the species' on-and-off relationship with the Divine. Mom was more into expressing her flair with the beautiful things of life, beautiful fashion for one thing, and fun. But enough about them. I hesitate to summon them from the beyond. They hate making a fuss.

I know they'd be happy with the blog, though, and the worldwide acclaim it has gotten, being only bested in recent polling by Pastun and Iraqi tribesmen with their tribesmen blogs. What makes those blogs so good? I can’t read their writings, frankly, but I think they chart the sorts of practical things the average person of their lands needs for travel in the mountains, along with weather and headline news. What I know most about it is, I can’t wait to surpass even them!

One of the happiest memories of my dear parents was the joyful help they gave me one weekend in the '90s. I had the great idea of getting rich quick by selling prayer cloths to religious people around the world. All I have left now are some black and white graphics, and the whole enterprise was shut down by so called religious do-gooders questioning my sincerity and blaming me for harboring profit motives. The idea! As for their help, Mom bought the various colors of cloth -- seven or eight truckloads to get started -- and Dad helped with the slick flyer explaining the mountaintop experience you were guaranteed. All backed up by angel power.

Now, though, friends, today, as strange as it may sound, those same parents are with me — from the eternal realms! — to ask you to help me blow these sonsabitchin' thermometers as high as the sky! Huh? Can you do it? You can? You can! Let us achieve it together, let us attain those selfsame eternal realms, this time without prayer cloths, but merely from our sincere devotion to duty and blogging, which is our common cause and legacy to pass on. For tomorrow's parents and their broods.