I think of weird little things all the time that all of a sudden are very peculiar. Like right now I’m having a cup of tea.
Tea is made from leaves. Little tiny leaves that we pour water over and drink the flavored liquid resulting from it. I’d never go into my yard and boil up some elm remnants but I do love tea. It’s WEIRD! It’s just leaves in water! Who was the first person who thought, “I’ll just take these old dried-up things off the ground and put them in a cup and pour some water, make that hot water, on them and then drink it.” Who would think such a thing up?
And was he or she related to whoever it was that looked at some cloudy beer they’d made and thought “why don’t I find a Beluga sturgeon, take out its swim-bladder, dry it and powder it, and then pour that into the beer to see if that makes it clearer?”
And yet they were right, and until the 19th century, the dried, powdered swim-bladders of Beluga sturgeon were used to clear most British beers - the substance is known as isinglass. (These days, of course, it’s nothing so exotic. They use cod swim bladders instead.)
Someone clearly (hah!) had a huge excess of both time and imagination.
Yeah, a lot of the food things get me like that - it just seems like we have certain things almost because of some tiny accident or stray thought that happened once somewhere. Chocolate, for example - people were drinking the stuff for centuries in various places, then suddenly, some guy decided to make it into a solid bar that can be eaten from the hand. If that flash of inspiration hadn’t happened, would someone else have just thought of it later, or would we simply not have chocolate bars today?
Which then makes me wonder what sort of other things we might have today, but the guy who thought of doing it was hit by a bus shortly after the moment of inspiration, and never managed to make his idea real - or just all those possibilities that would be blindingly obvious once done, but we simply haven’t thought to implement.
I was recently thinking along these lines, but with TV commercials. Most people have at some point watched a documentary or special feature with footage of making a big movie. There are a lot of steps: there’s the script, the storyboard, hiring actors, rehearsals, editors, directors…not to mention the caterers and costume designers and construction workers and all the staff who support everything behind the scenes. But TV commercials go through the same thing. People had to write and design and edit and direct each and every commercial that comes on TV. And people get paid for it! Imagine that…
My revelation is much smaller (or much larger). But it in effect transforms the mundanity of my existance into total and complete incredulity.
I’m the dad/husband!
Wait a minute and back up the bus… How’d I get here and what are my qualifications?
I’m making monetary decisions about our retirement?
I’m deciding whether “Johnny” down the street is a good influence on my son?
I’m the sole arbitor about whether or not to have the roof fixed or completely replaced?
I’m responsible for getting the trash to the curb twice a week without being reminded!
I’m the “go to” guy when the car is going bumpety-bump and it’s never bumpety-bumped before but now it bumpety-bumps everyday on the way to work and has been bumpety-bumping for a month and a half?
I’m responsible for escorting the 15 11- to 17-year-old Boy Scouts on a weekend camping trip? And their parents gladly turn them over to me?
I’m the one to explain why you need to be polite to 16-year-old girls; what the facts of life are; and why you shouldn’t say “shut up” to your mother?
::Shaking head::
How’d I get here when it seems like yesterday I was following the Dead up and down the East Coast?
Dollar stores and the stuff there in.
Sart breaking down every aspect of the item getting to the store. Raw materials, factory, labour, packaging, shipping, trasporting within Canada to the depots, then the store, then put on a shelf… labour lights heat rent etc for the store… And they sell it to be for a dollar?
In the late eighties I used to buy skeins of embroidery floss for around a dollar each. Now I buy a bag with a dozen skiens for a dollar.
When I start thinking like this I just go home, usually not buying a damn thing.
When the state employment office told me to “go on welfare” I started thinking about the things people have to do to keep this planet running. Hundreds of people are directly involved in doing what it takes for one person to live an ordinary day–food, clothing, shelter. And yet NJ didn’t think I was capable of doing any of it.
Thanks for reminding me of that thread. When I saw it, I remembered reading it before and being struck by your way with words. What a wonderful tribute to that oak!
According to another legend, the Bodhidharma had meditated continuously for nine years when one day he fell asleep. He was so disgusted by his weakness that he cut off his own eyelids and buried them (ew!) from which the first tea bush sprang up.
I was driving through Toronto a while ago and I happened to take a long overall look at the city when I thought about how impressive it all was (not specifically Toronto, but that is where I was). Long ago, this was nothing but dirt and trees and look what we did.
It’s not like some dude walked into a store named Civilizations ‘R’ Us and bought a how to book, everything in that (or any) city had to be created from essentially nothing.
Whether it is good or bad, that is certainly up for debate but it is nonetheless impressive.
How about shellac? At some point, somebody decided that bug poop* would look good on furniture and would also help to polish up fruit in the grocery store.
Sometimes, while watching a movie, I’ll look at the main character (who has been having all kinds of adventures and is probably standing on a ledge or bleeding from a head wound or hiding from monsters) and think, “When they got dressed this morning, they probably had no idea this stuff was going to happen. If they had, do you think they’d have chosen something else to wear?”
Sometimes I wonder what I would say to someone who was magically transported to this time from 200 years in the past, and then wonder what someone could possibly say to me if I were teleported 200 years into the future.
Sometimes I am convinced that all the mundane things around my don’t really exist and are created and destroyed as my attention wanders to them and then away. I wonder if I am not some disembodied brain being fed all of the correct sensations to simulate an early 21st century human existence.
Sometimes I imagine what would happen if the transportation industry in this country faltered for just one day.
Man, have I got a job for you! Sometimes I have to mix large batches of urethane and then put the batch in a vacuum chamber to get all the air out of the mixture. As the vacuum comes on, the mixture starts to boil, sometimes foaming up to many times its original volume, only to collapse as the air runs out. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve sat mezmorized by the whole thing to the point of waiting too long before taking it out of the vacuum and then having to start again.
So many people have mentioned driving in this thread, but all of them seem to be referring to it as the context of their little epiphanies, rather than the subject.
Think about driving for a moment. We casually steer these enormous piles of metal and plastic around at speeds faster than any animal in the world can maintain. We do so using movements and conditioned reflexes that have no analog in nature. We continually resolve time-and-motion problems that would give us nervous breakdowns if we saw them on a physics/calculus exam. We do this while surrounded by hundreds of other humans doing the same things, all while eating, chatting, singing along with the radio, or engaging in a bewildering array of other activities.
The fact that we haven’t all just smashed into a single vast pileup amazes me. Even more amazing is that we’re so blasé about the matter. Driving is, for the most part, a boring thing we do to get from Point A to Point B.
That I have communicated with the dead. No, while the person was still alive. But I have records of my communications with people who are no longer able to respond. I have audio records of my calls to talk radio hosts who are no longer with us. I have written correspondence from friends who have died. The idea that somehow these people’s words and thoughts live on some times amazes me.
Me, too. Who the hell figured out that you could take a bird’s egg, separate the yolk from the albumen, then beat the albumen until it was frothy and stiff? (Get your mind out of the gutter, now!) And then combine it with other stuff to make a soufflé or spoon bread or meringue?
I can envision how someone might have figured out that eggs could be cooked or added into something else as a binder. But…to figure out meringue?