Random Bits…Intrigued, Puzzled, and Curious

By Tim McGrath

“So, tell me, what intrigued, puzzled, or aroused your curiosity today?” a question posed by friend, Mary

That’s a good question. No, it’s a great question. And honestly, it caught me off guard. Normally, when greeting one another, it’s common to hear things like, “How are you today?” or, “What’s new?”, things like that. But this question really got me thinking. Which is good, because it’s so easy to slide into becoming a mental loafer once one hits the retirement years. I think I answered with something like, “Hmmm, let me think a minute.” Or something equally uninspired. I’m not sure I ever did answer the question, which is kind of unusual for me. I take great delight in being intrigued by unusual, off beat things, and have them ready at my fingertips for just such an occasion.
It's one of those things long suffering Cheryl puts up with in her own clever way. When we had a spate of real winter a few weeks back, I came back inside after shoveling the heavy, sloppy slush that had fallen the day before. 

Me: “Man, that stuff was heavy. That must have been about a 7:1 snowfall. Why couldn’t it have been lake effect? That’s only about 20:1.” 
Cheryl: “What did you just say?”
Or,
Me, while watching the birds devour seed at the feeder: “Isn’t it interesting how the Downy and Hairy Woodpeckers look so much alike. You can really only tell by their beak size.”
Cheryl: “Yes.”

Then there was this one:
Me: “Interesting factoid, the Chrysler 392 Hemi was only replaced in dragsters by the 426 Hemi when racers couldn’t find used 392s in junkyards sometime around 1967, or so. That sure was big news to me!”
Cheryl: “Mmmm, hmmm...”

And those random Facebook posts that reel me in, like this one: 
When asked what my childhood phone number was, I instantly recall: LE2-0484. I even know the LE meant Lennox, that stood for the 532 exchange. I’m puzzled why anyone wouldn’t remember such intriguing things. 

You get the picture. 

We had just spent a week enjoying the fun and sun of Florida and were at the airport waiting to board our flight home. As is typical, the person working the gate was giving instructions to the passengers milling around her stand. As soon as she started talking about the process, it was as if a giant invisible hand scooped everyone up out of their seats and deposited them at the gate in this large mass of people with their overstuffed carryon bags jockeying for position. The whole process arouses my curiosity. There’s really no good reason to rush the gate area prior to boarding. Only so many people are allowed on the plane. They can fit just so many through the doorway at a time, and once in the jet way, there’s invariably a wait while those inside the aircraft lug their bags and cram them into the overhead bins. Plus, we’re all going to the same place, and no one leaves until everyone’s on board. I commented to Cheryl, “Why are they all racing to get there first? Who wants to sit in an airplane for an extra half hour waiting for everyone to board, anyway?” 
I was feeling a little smug at my clever observations, when we realized the milling mass had disappeared, and the gate area was now deserted. Walking over, the person working the gate told us they were just about ready to close the doors, we needed to board. We hustled down the jet way, and getting on the plane were met by a sea of staring faces. They were all waiting for us.

Another puzzling thing…

It was Monday morning, grocery shopping day. It was also the day I dreaded. Because today I had returnables to take in. I’d shuddered at that scene on those Monday mornings when I didn’t have any bottles or cans, to see groups of people struggling into the returnables area with multiple shopping carts stuffed full to overflowing with large black plastic garbage bags of bottles and cans. Every time I’d witness this insanity I’d mumble to. myself, “Why in the world would you let those things take up all that valuable real estate in your house or garage?” I was thankful it wasn’t me. But that was then, this was now; and it was my turn to walk the gauntlet. 
As I made my way through the parking lot toward the collection area with my little grocery sack of about twenty cans, I stopped short. There, in one of the handicapped parking spaces, was an older minivan. The back hatch was popped open. The rear and middle seats had been removed. In their place was a mountain of cans and bottles, occupying the entire rear two-thirds of the car. An older woman with hair resembling a giant, silvery-gray tangled squirrel nest was hollering at the young man in the back to hurry it up, for crying out loud. Somehow, he had found his way into the pile and was tossing the bottles and cans to another young guy who dumped them in a cart. Why he couldn’t have just stood at the open back hatch and reached in, instead of immersing himself in the pile was a bit of a mystery. Odd, yet interesting. Reminded me of the old-fashioned bucket brigade photos of people handing buckets of water hand over hand. 
Oh man, I thought, I’ll be here until tonight if they get ahead of me. Hustling in, I again stopped. There in front of me were two shopping carts, full from top to bottom with returnables. And working together was a three-man team, each feeding all the available machines. I overhead a couple of them talking about, “… getting back out there to get the rest of them damn cans”. It dawned on me these three were part of the minivan people. They had a rudimentary assembly line going, each a cog in the great can return caper. Then just like clockwork, in came another full cart. When one of the three amigos’ carts was emptied, the new, full one was wheeled into place, and the action commenced. Irritating, yes, but also very intriguing. There was a certain genius to this orchestrated dance. I got the feeling the older woman directing operations at the minivan was the brains of the outfit, and the guys doing the heavy lifting were there to get in on a piece of the action. 
I dumped my cans and bottles in with theirs and walked out. They didn’t notice.

Curiosity killed the cat…

It was a dog, not a cat, and at the time, I felt like it was going to kill me. I like dogs, I really do. They’re great companions, friends, family members. Those that are service dogs; now that’s something remarkable. How the bond between dog and human grows so strong, each depending upon the other. Lovely. But this was different.
I’d stopped in to have my oil changed. As I handed off my truck to the attendant, I went into the waiting area. There was usually an array of interesting magazines on a wide variety of topics from golf to real estate, shooting, glamour, you name it, all tidily arranged there on the table. As I was leafing through one of the golf magazines, in came another customer. With him came Lady, his year-old Brittany Spaniel. I have a weak spot for Brittany’s, as I’d had one that I’d trained as a bird dog years earlier. Beautiful creatures. 
As I was speaking with the owner, let’s call him Chuck, about Lady, the apple of Chuck’s eye, Lady came to me, tail wagging, tongue lolling, and promptly farted. Not just a dainty toot, but a loud rasping explosion that came from the eagerly wagging rear end. It could’ve been her way of greeting new people, a kind of doggy fist bump. Feigning deafness, we both carried on our conversation as if nothing was unusual. But each time someone came by, they were drawn to beautiful little Lady. As they approached, Lady would let fly in her excitement at making a new friend. But that wasn’t the worst. Each of those rasping expulsions carried with them a virulently powerful aroma. Soon the place was filled with the smell of rotting eggs that drew startled expressions from all her well-wishers. Invariably the invisible cloud got to be too much, and they’d scurry off with held breath and streaming eyes to get fresh air. 
What was so curious about that scene was how Chuck, knowing full well Lady’s weakness, would at one time scold her for bad behavior, then reach out and pat or hug her as a new person approached. Yet that only made the air biscuits come in more rapid succession. One would think the courteous thing would be to have taken Lady out into the parking lot to wait for the oil change to get finished. But the thought of missing out on all the attention and affection for his beloved Lady cast all social niceties out the window. 
At any rate, my name was mercifully called, and I wished Chuck and Lady a good day. As I walked off to collect my truck, in a final farewell, Lady let loose with a particularly loud blast. All is well my friend, she seemed to be saying as I stepped out into the afternoon sunshine. All is well.

One final thing….
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I recently found myself in a local department store. As I wandered the aisles in the health and beauty aids, my eye caught something unusual on one of the shelves. On closer examination, I discovered a variety of personal massage devices. Wait, what? Yes, I realize it is 2024, not 1964, and times have changed. So, they’ve taken vibrators out from under the counter and the watchful eye of the shopkeeper and put them out on full display. But what makes me curious is, how many people would actually walk in with that purchase in mind, go over to the shelf, and carefully study all the options and features of each one. Then satisfied with their choice, walk boldly to the checkout in front of everyone, and coolly plunk down the cash for it, like they were buying corn or band aids, or whatever. Well, so be it. Just another curiosity of modern life.

And with that my friends, I leave you with the question posed by my friend, Mary.
“So, tell me, what intrigued, puzzled, or aroused your curiosity today?”

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