May 27, 2024

Column: “That Got Me to Thinkin’…?” “What Do You Make of That”


“That Got Me To Thinkin’…?” “What Do You Make of That” Chapter 68
By Bruce Williams

Bruce Williams

I recently watched our dog Clark licking his balls, then moving on with his considerable tongue to Jack’s bare feet right after his 6th-period basketball class.  After getting up to use the restroom, I came back into the living room to see that the dog was now over licking Michelle’s face, causing me to pause and question—huh…what do you make of that?


As I age I’m learning to accept things more as they are and not how I wished they were…to live in the moment and to be at peace with and find enjoyment in things in their simplest and unadulterated forms.  Still—some things I observe cause me to stop and question.  Take for instance people who use the hashtag “blessed”…are you, really?  Usually it’s following a “humble brag” of sorts; depictions of grandeur about a life well-lived—the elevated status of indeed being one of God’s Chosen.  I’ve found myself shuddering when I’ve seen it—even mentioning it to my wife so that when I silently go to slowly place a faux-weathered placard wall hanging into our cart at Home Goods with “#blessed” as it’s only message, she’s in on the joke and gives me the obligatory eye roll.

The bristliness of grey hairs also causes me to gently shake my head and ponder “What do you make of that?”  (“That Got Me to Thinkin’s” dumbfounded cousin). Is it not bad enough that they’re there, they have to be extra wiry and >thwangg!< their way perpendicular to my head out from my already-thick eyebrows?  Same with the chest hairs that come in newly-snowy.  Why are they possessed with such ardent enthusiasm that they feel the need to angrily poke through a wool sweater—as if declaring that wool doesn’t have anything over on them…why don’t you try mohair, or better yet burlap, next time, buddy?

I purposely used the three different forms of there, they’re and their in a sentence in that last paragraph.  I cringe when I see them (daily) misemployed, disallowing me from following whatever point was being made prior to their misuse.  Same goes for people who pluralize with apostrophes. Grammar is important in the discounting of ideas—I hate to say it but I’m a bit of syntax snob, especially when it halts me dead in my tracks in an otherwise cogent argument.  No proofreader?  How about that?

The last thing this week that I have a hard time making heads or tails of is people who refuse to let anyone take their picture.  You look like you look—that’s who you are.  I’m no beauty queen, and many unflattering pictures exist on my phone’s family-shared camera roll of what looks like multiple chins, crooked smiles only a mother could love, unflattering t-shirts that squintingly question “manboob?”  But that’s me—in my inglorious entirety.  My kids are in that awkward phase of not wanting to be captured on film with either a prominent pimple or for a parent’s obscene need to post their #blessings online, and I get that, but don’t you want to be able to go back and see how you once were, extra Covid muscle and all?  So smile, and let them take your picture and quit trying to hide behind your friend—if someone is taking your picture it’s because they love you…let them.

That’s enough out of me this week.  Stay curious out there, and keep contemplating on those things that truly make you hesitate and wonder, “Well…what do you make of that?”