30 September, 2001 - 23:03 MDT

THE WONDERING JEW

Desire

I wonder sometimes if a plant first breaking the surface has a desire to mature into a beautiful flower or sturdy vegetable ? Is the first born of a canine dam yearning for maturity as it takes its first steps ?

Speaking in generalities, not particularly stero-types makes me think. How fast we grow up, but not nearly as rapidly as we yearn. We try to wear the costume of maturity before we can spell the word, "Maturity."

I remember what some of my wishes were as a tot. I wanted, long pants, a real leather belt, a hat like my daddy wore, neckties galore (until I had to wear a few), to smoke cigarettes, to be called Mr. and sir and oh, so many more things that would make me, "Grown up.

I started this very early on and by the time I started second grade in primary school I had it bad. I remember waiting impatiently for Mom and Dad to come from work and pick me up from where I stayed after school, (even now I can't force myself to call her my babysitter). When they got home I had much to relate to them about the grown up second grade and having to feel much more mature made a series of remarks, each throwing off on those, "Little first graders." Later I asked Dad to measure me to see how much taller I was than in first grade, wow -- what a disappointment that was.

I seem to remember at one stage of my growth, probably about thirteen years of age and having a baby holding episode or two behind me, regarded babies as wiggly, messy aliens -- not related to human beings. My stupid mind when I was younger refused to admit to itself I was truly once a baby myself.

Clothing when outgrown was put behind me by donning it and telling Mom, "Mom, its too small on me." Then that article disappeared, I found out later that clothing not torn or worn out was passed on to other folks who had kids about the right size. However it was done in such a way that I never met a castoff shirt face to face on a friend, schoolmate or relative.

I hung around with school chums who were striving to be the ultimate grown ups. One of the group had learned to smoke from watching his big brother acquire the habit. So at the age of eight I was a member of the, "Golden Grain Club," Golden Grain was tobacco in a little bag similar to Bull Durham. We labored hard, trying to hand roll the perfect cigarette with Zig-Zag papers and at least got something smokeable out of our efforts. When we had pocket money we would go together and buy a pack of "Tailor Mades," to share. All in the mistaken endeavor to be, by golly, grown up.

Long pants after a long fought for privilege came some time after learning to smoke and carried their own responsibilites and worries. I remember the hell I caught when I would be out at the knees from scuffling in the school yard. I had one pair reserved for formal, visiting wear that I dared not do anything to damage them, anywhere not even grass stains on the knees. The rest of my pants were just patched by Mom and worn to school and I met mates who wore patched knees, all fearlessly forging ahead on to the future.

I noticed that the girls were pushing the envelope and at different stages buying lipstick and hiding the use of it from parents. Evening In Paris perfume was used heavily and sometimes had lost enough aroma that Mom didn't give them heck when they got home, but at the start of the school day they were Fifi le Pew.

Both genders were desperately trying to grow up by play acting, trying to don the costumes of the big people, but without the knowledge of the responsibilities, worries and griefs entailed in a grown up persons life.

As the years flew by we matured enough to fit the coat we had so painstakingly woven of the cloth of our preceeding life and found that on most of us the garb of adulthood fit us, although it was a bit tight and confining here and there. Once clothed in adulthood I think only those who are not mentally up to par try to go back to being a child. Though some of us at times appear to be making an effort to return to the maternal breast.

A good part of us actually grew up making true the thing that was our young Desire . . . . .

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