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The Fate of the Skates
I am not big on the whole concept of mass e-mail forwarding. My thoughts on that mode of communication is there’s one person who has no job, no kids and no reason to leave the basement who starts every “snowball” forwarding.
Three seconds after this guy sends out an initial e-mail to his buddies, that e-mail diatribe already has been circulated to 3.2 billion of Earth’s inhabitants. As proof of that fact, just go to work the next day and stand by the water cooler. Before you can say “Al Gore invented the Internet,” a co-worker will stroll up to you and say – “Hey, have you heard the latest joke about Tiger Woods?”
And, as predicted, four-and-a-half words into the knee-slapper you realize you read that one and 16 dozen others in a forwarded e-mail right after you ushered your children off to bed last night.
Personally, I wait until another recipient tells me an e-mail was funny or thought-provoking before I waste that time I could have spent memorizing the preamble to the U.S. Constitution without singing it to the music of “Schoolhouse Rock.”
Among the thought-provoking e-mails I, and most of you reading, receive are ones that asks to take a step back from our non-stop, always-on-the-go lives to reflect on the goodness that God has bestowed upon us. Even in our most difficult of times, we are surrounded by countless blessings.
Some of those illuminations of life are absolutely majestic, but others, quite frankly, are downright humorous. Without a percentage of silliness in your life, you are headed to the funny farm.
Friday last week I had the pleasure of spending time with our local Cub Scouts at J&T Family Skating Fun in the Screven Plaza. That was the place to be if you wanted to witness some smooth operators on tiny wheels. It also was the place to be if you wanted to witness some less-than-stellar attempts of staying upright.
I fell (pun intended) into the latter category.
As the afternoon continued, I, like the others, got better, but not without a pain to my hind quarters.
Not that it ever was in question, but God knew what He was doing when he created us. The buttocks is rather resilient.
It is not how many times you fall down, but whether you get back up.
Feet come out from under you. Land on heinie. Restore upright position.
I got good enough on the skates to pronounce myself as one notch above novice. And, for that, I was proud.
With my confidence meter reading a robust 2 percent and on the rise to a solid 5 percent, I decided to assist my sons in their evolution from a cartoon character slipping on a banana peel to Fred Astaire on rotating circle.
This would be a major mistake -- not for the younger Autrys, but for the elder version.
Holding my oldest son’s hand until he was ready to join the drag strip circuit, we rolled around in a “circle” that from an aerial view resembled more of amoeba.
Noticing that my son was losing his balance, I attempted to gently coax him down to the floor. He cooperated, but his left skate did not.
We both folded like a house of cards. His rump landed on the floor. Mine, however, landed on that irreverent skate.
So what have we learned from this? First, invest in pillow to strap on the back of your front. Second, purchase some slippery stuff gel so you can let go of the one you are assisting. And third, and most importantly, make sure nobody has a video camera on you during your debauchery.
I haven’t seen my fate of the skates on YouTube, so I believe I am safe.
Sore, but safe.
Enoch Autry is the publisher-editor of the Sylvania Telephone.