February 27, 2009

• When I’m Sixty-Four

  It is amazing how long you can go in life without questioning something; how long you can know something, but know it wrong.

  Ocean handles are the handles on a the ceiling of a car that you can hang clothing from, that way as you drive to a wedding your tuxedo slacks can fall on to the floor and get nice crinkles. In long car rides, you rest your arm in the window and hold the handle. It (the handle, not your arm) isn’t an object you refer to often and seldom do you think about the origin of the word.

  In my junior year of high school, I told a story that involved ocean handles somehow. To add to the story, I was the academic bowl team captain at the time, and we (the team) were on our way back from a competition. Before I had finished the story, everyone started laughing. Then a friend name Sheri chimed in “Seth, it isn’t an ‘Ocean’ handle. It is an ‘Oh, Shit!’ handle. As in ‘Oh shit, hold on to something!’”

  Suddenly the world made more sense to me. I had no reason to believe I had the wrong name for the handle. And I’d never thought about the word much. Cognitive dissonance at its best.

  A few weeks ago, a group of us had a conversation about songs we learned in Sunday school. “This Little Light of Mine” came to focus. I love that song, especially as a spiritual, even though I can’t sing a proper note and I’m not ethnic enough to sing spirituals without seeming oddly out of place. Turns out, I’ve sung the lyrics wrong for 22 years.

  The lyric is “Hide it under a bushel, no” not “Hide it under a bush, oh no.”

  I learned the song before I had learned to read. At the age of 5, “bushel” isn’t part of your active vocabulary, and I’ve never seen the lyrics printed. I’d never pondered the words. And I grew up in a whimsical and ridiculous household where silly lyrics tended to be par. It never occurred to me that I sang the wrong lyrics.

  It is nice to know things properly. But I must admit, I had more fun when I knew the words incorrectly.

  I have a healthy imagination. For ocean handles, I imagined the term came from the 1950′s & 60′s when people piled in to large station wagons that had fake wooden paneling and made their way for the beach. As the people cruised, they kept one hand out the window to hold the surf boards on the roof down, and with the other hand they held on to the ocean handles.

  And I’ve always had entertaining thoughts of daft people trying to hide candles under bushes and what a terrible fire hazard that would be. And what kind of questions did their household insurance agent ask them?

  “Does your house have bushes?”
  “Do you have a `that little light of mine’ brand candle?”
  “Would you ever place it under a bush?”

  Besides, my lyrics make sense because trying to hide you’re a Christian makes as little sense as putting a candle under a bush. It is ridiculous.

  From this point, I have no transition. It is Friday. The partners of the company aren’t using the ski cabin, so we’re headed to Tahoe for wicked skiing and to have an awesome, massive cabin all to ourselves. I’m going to drink beer that has chilled in snow and have snowball fights. Enjoy your weekend!

  • 3:47 am
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