To all Intensive Porpoises

Published April 22, 2016 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

Like Dot Bunny, I grow weary of stating the obvious.

One of the things I love about working with kids is that no matter how much your own personal nonsense wears you down, a child can usually get you out of it because they simply do not care about anything but the now.

Like Ms. Dot Bunny. She is the protagonist of the story “Wolfie the Bunny”. In the story, Dot’s family finds a wolf cub on their doorstep. Mama and Papa Bunny are charmed by everything Wolfie does. Dot, the voice of reason, keeps saying, “But he’s going to eat us all up!”  This is a recurring theme throughout the story.

I don’t want to ruin the ending for you, but I have to say that I sympathize with Dot.

A child came up to me today and said, “Do you have any missing bookmarks?” Before that could entirely snap my head off, I asked if she needed a bookmark. This was an easily solved problem.

As I have mentioned, I am not entirely sure that I didn’t die on July 27, 2003, and am simply working my way out of purgatory. It would explain a lot. I pushed forward this theory in a previous posting, citing the factoid that anyone who has ever been in a coma can’t ever, that’s right EVER be entirely certain what reality is framing their existence.  That also explains a lot.

The last couple of days I worked with a woman who was in a coma for five days and made a complete recovery. I found a gracious way to say, “Oh Yeah? Me, too!”  Our conversation drifted around this whole structured reality business and somehow we meandered to the topic of the Berenstain Bears (Oh, don’t act like you’re so surprised.)

I asked her if she remembered them as the Berenstein Bears. She did, as did I. Then we both looked at the cover of one of the books. It’s Berenstain. There is a school of thought that says the reason that some of us remember Berenstein, vs Berenstain is that on some strain of reality the bears were Stein.

Now here’s the quandry, if the two coma survivors have the same shared reality in which the Bears were Berenstein, are we occupying the same circles of purgatory? And then I think of my youngest niece who would simply point out that Papa Bear is kind of a Jack Ass.

On a related note, as I was processing this information I had an revelation, an epiphany if you will. Time and again I have expressed gratitude for my recovery, but likened it to receiving a Ronco Tato Twister.  It’s a nice gift, but what am I supposed to do with it.  While I don’t know the specifications for the big picture, I do know what my purpose is for the tiny part of the picture that is the now. But, shh. It’s a secret.

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