Editors note: I thought it might be fun to post my weekly newspaper columns in this space. The columns will be non-political for the time being, but than again, it might just do us some good. This week's installment was inspired by the recent flashflood in our coverage area.
Torrential rain creates a host of problems, be it mopping the basement, finding a dry gridiron, or cleaning up an entire city. In the eyes of a 12-year-old boy, however, it creates a perfect storm of opportunity. Suddenly there are lakes and rivers in place of fields and streets. For most boys, this is an invitation to greatness.
Having done many stupid things, I am versed in the early signs of the disorder Imminent Future Idiocy (IFI). As a public service I thought I'd share some, to help parents recognize them in their own children, before it is too late.
For instance: Though only 40 degrees outside, little Johnny appears in the family room wearing a swimsuit. When asked why, he shrugs and says "I dunno." Whatever IFI he has planned, it will likely land him in the hospital with an unpronounceable flu or other rare bug. Like ecoli. Parents should be wary.
Perhaps you find Jimmy preparing to depart on his two-wheeler outfitted with hip-waders, rope, and ski goggles. Whatever IFI he has up his sleeve, a happy ending is doubtful.
Maybe a street floods and you shortly thereafter discover Davey lashing plywood to inner-tubes, about to steal the paddles from the family canoe. Assume the worst and do not, under any circumstances, provide him a bag lunch. In fact, Davey may be experiencing the Huckleberry Finn Response (HFR), which can lead to delusions of treasure and spontaneous, irreversible, southern accents. It is very serious, approach with caution.
Finally, if you discover young Timmy with your boogie-board, wearing a hockey helmet and fashioning a jousting lance from a broom handle, thouest be warneth. This is textbook IFI.
Of course, recognizing IFI is but a first step. Handling it properly still remains. Though incurable, some simple procedures can insure the disorder is identified and its affects minimized.
Parents should have various ways to ask "What are you up to?" as it may take multiple versions to fool the child into an answer. Do not be placated by the old stand-by, "I dunno." It is a ruse.
Be warned! Knowing his IFI plan will produce an irresistible urge to ask "why?" Resist that urge for your own sake. Though you may escape with another "I dunno," the far greater fear is that he will answer the question. Do you really want to see through that window?
Once particulars have been established, a mental survey of the possibilities is in order. However, if the probable result falls short of a ruptured spleen or broken femur, my advice is to step back and let IFI run it's course. In fact, why not grab the video camera? Hollywood pays good money for credible documentary footage of IFI.
What is only weather to us is so much more to a boy. It is an event, forever to be brought up nostalgically with old mates. Tales of shared IFI bind boys as they transition into men. They are the songs of a well-spent youth. They can even become precious family heirlooms.
Someday, someone he hasn't seen in years will walk up to little Jimmy, now James, and say, "Remember that time, when we got all that rain, and we went waterskiing down Main St. behind your mini-bike, wearing flippers and welding gloves?"
Think of the gift you will have bestowed upon Jimmy when he is able to respond, "Ya man, how could I ever forget?"
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