My father and mother where both 300 pounds. My sisters and I had never-ever seen them dance. My father was a very good musician (amateur) and my mother played OK. But they never danced - ever.

One year they went off to Italy, to the old-a country on one of those Senior Citizen tours. We were all adults then and mom fixed dinner and we wanted to share pictures and memories.

They came back and told us they learned to dance.

We wanted to see so my dad walked over to the record player (it was a long time ago), dropped the needle on the disk, and my 300lb parents did the chicken dance. My sisters and I were rolling on the floor with laughter. They were grinning at each other like teenagers as 600 pounds of fun did the dance.

The sight vaguely reminded me of hippopotami dancing in Walt Disney's "Fantasia".

Now I've never enjoyed the song, and we will only play it when requested but I've never enjoyed it as much as I did when my parents did it.

There are a few stupid songs that we play. None of them are painful, so we just do them. It's like eating baked potato chips. All bulk, no substance. Junk food for the ears.

I had a day job once as a phone repairman. I was testing out what it was to be normal and found normal to be overrated.

I got to this pole I had to climb. When climbing poles you are held up by about 1/16" of spike into a pole that has been climbed so many times before, the outer layer can give out. There are two kinds of pole climbers, those who have fallen, and those who haven't -YET.

Anyway there are 4 chain link fences (don't want to land on those, especially if you happen to have one leg on either side), a couple of galvanized garbage cans, and some bushes.

So I climb the pole, open the terminal to discover about 100 paper wasps had called it home. They were not happy about having their roof and walls removed and were flying around like crazy.

Now you can't do anything fast on your climbers, because the fences and garbage cans were waiting for a wrong move.

So I carefully climbed back down the pole. Fortunately the wasps never figured out it was me who was the home wrecker.

Chicken Dance? Yakety Sax? Beer Barrel Polka? Alley Cat? No problem. They are just notes, and the notes don't hurt.

Sometimes you just have to put it all into perspective.

Insights and incites by Notes

Bob "Notes" Norton smile Norton Music
https://www.nortonmusic.com

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