By: Jennifer Richardson Holt
This week, while driving either to or from work, I can’t remember which, I saw a man fishing. Now, I know what you’re thinking. How is this something significant enough for me to write about? People fish. It’s spring in the South and someone fishing seems a terribly reasonable thing. But let me continue. This fellow was fishing in a little historical park that I regularly drive through. Again, you’re thinking that fishing in a park, while it could possibly be violating some sort of ordinance, doesn’t seem outlandish in the least and not something that really is interesting enough to document. I understand your thoughts. And no, there was no huge fish he was displaying. He was standing still concentrating on his line. And you’re reading with your brows furrowed wondering why on God’s green earth I am telling you about this. The intriguing bit is that though this fellow was clearly fishing, there was no water. He was standing deep in thought looking at the line dangling from his rod that was just sitting in the grass. I could clearly see him as I drove by, and I desperately tried to make what I was seeing make sense. I was not successful. A man was fishing in the grass. Can it even be called fishing? I wasn’t sure if perhaps for a moment I had driven through a portal to a topsy-turvy place where fish burrowed in the ground and the waters were teaming with moles. It was strange.
There have been many different breeds of strangeness lately. They have all been the types that have left me flabbergasted just in different manners. Lately I have seen several times on television where two people of opposing political viewpoints say things that leave me flummoxed. The first person, well call him Jim, says that he is a big proponent of some program, let’s call it The Good Stuff Program. Jim says as far as he is concerned The Good Stuff Program will definitely continue doing all the good stuff. Then, Jim’s opponent, let’s call him Bob, speaks up. Bob, who is standing right next to Jim, and only moments before heard what Jim said, says that it is a known fact that Jim wants to do away with The Good Stuff Program and stop all the good stuff. This type of thing makes me furrow my brow and tilt my head to the side like a confused puppy. Jim just said he was for something, and Bob said Jim is anti that same thing. Did I slip into a time warp? Have I lost my ability to understand speech? Why did no one speak up at the inaccuracy of what was going on here? Do words not mean anything anymore? Then again, this may or may not count as strangeness in the traditional sense, this could just be the tedious ridiculosity of politics.
In a much closer to home turn of events, my cat has also taken up some out of the ordinary activities as of late that, if they don’t technically qualify as strange, I would say certainly are confusing as the Dickens. Every night, in the wee hours my cat begins to traverse the house bellowing out his most fervent meows. Now, it is my understanding that cats do not really meow to each other or other animals, so I have to assume that he is talking to his people. Unfortunately, I do not know what the message is that he is so loudly trying to convey. Sometimes you can just say his name and he will quiet down. Other times addressing him only gets a brief pause before he continues with his mysterious announcements. Just last night he went on and on to the point that I got up to see if I could lend some sort of assistance. He galloped to his food bowl, so I figured perhaps he was having an attack of midnight (or roughly 3am in this case) munchies. I fed him. He ate. Then he continued with his proclamations. Once we’re all out of bed in the morning he has no news to tell. He didn’t use to do this. I am at a loss.
Perhaps I should change my name to Alice. Then again, I am not sure that I would call this Wonderland though it most assuredly does very often make me wonder. Do I go so far as to call these strange days? I don’t feel like it would be an unfair assessment. Average people, the powers that be and even animals all seem to have some very unique ideas and behaviors these days. Should I prepare for the oddities to intensify because it feels like I should. I may come to a point where not very much surprises me anymore. I am not sure if that is a good thing or a bad thing, but I will suppose I should expect more wrinkles in my forehead and I will most assuredly avoid any little treats that are disconcertingly labeled “Eat Me”.
Prose and Possibilities 