Backseat - From Where I Sit

December 2004

By: Michelle

What Are You Saying?

It all started with pointing and a few unintelligible grunts. No, I am not talking about your typical pre-coffee morning. I am referring to something in a much broader sense – the evolution of communication, which has taken more than a few interesting turns along the route of development. Even the youngest human has the ability to communicate but few ever master the art.

For our dog, Biker, getting a point across is a simple thing. You wag your tail when you are happy, lift your leg when you want a belly rub, and hide in the corner when you have had enough of human company. The major drawback is that sometimes mixed-messages are sent and life gets a bit confusing. In her effort to please, she sometimes trains herself to do strange things. For example, each day when we leave, Biker is given a doggie biscuit as a farewell treat. Somehow in this very simple exchange, she has read much more into the meaning than we ever intended. Every morning the ritual is the same – the biscuit drops; she looks at it longing, walks slowly to her litter pan, steps in and turns to stare sadly at us, never moving to retrieve the biscuit until the door is firmly closed behind us. Despite our best efforts to explain otherwise, she is firmly convinced that the biscuit will not taste good unless she follows this exact pattern. Obviously, cross-species communication hasn’t quite reached its potential.

I became aware of the limitations of the language early in life and began making up my own words. Something I had always prided myself on as being a gift. However, my children who have had to endure such nicknames and Scooter Pooter, Meliscapie, and MikeBoo, did not find this particular creative talent of mine all that endearing. Though he won’t admit it now, my son Michael has inherited this trait of filling in gaps in vocabulary with creative terms. When he was two he pointed to a complete stranger’s huge beehive hairdo and loudly proclaimed it a “dunsa” much to my embarrassment. He also would routinely ask me to “rinse” the syrup around on his pancakes. Why bother with being limited by the dictionary? It seems reasonable that perfectly good words could be created to convey a simple message.

My husband, Kent, has been caught off guard with this concept on occasion. Recently, we were traveling down the road and he pointed to rabbit roadkill, which I quickly renamed a “flabbit”. Maybe it was less than dignified for the flattened rabbit but the point was made. “Flabbit,” he understood, but the whole debate about why a “weed-eater thingy” is not the same as a “bushwhacker” touched off a flurry of discussion. I think this kind of thing has been well documented in the whole “Men Are From Mars…” study.

However, there are times when the boundaries of the English language are delightful reminders that perhaps we have come too far in our evolution. The other day, Kent and I were observers in a glamorous task of watching a test of a new septic system. Completely baffled by the discussions of pipes, rocks, and tanks, I chose to be the silent observer. Our “septic guy” was a very decent down to earth kind of fellow. When Kent asked why there needed to be 2 tanks, the guy matter-of-factly explained: “This one is for the “turds and toilet paper.” Our real estate agent, fearing that we would be offended, was quick to redirect us to the fact that the tank was for “solids” and “sludge”. Though I could appreciate his efforts, I think I understood the septic guy much better.

Through it all, it simply boils down to getting a point across. As far as the motorcycle goes, I am barely able to identify more than the most basic of components but I know where to put everything, and what I need to do to get where I need to go even if I don’t know the correct terminology. Whether or not it makes me less of a biker is debatable but it doesn’t diminish my joy of riding in any way. So whether you prefer turds or sludge, standing in a litter pan, or watching out for flabbits, it’s all the same journey. Ride safely.

Thanks for visiting VirginiaWind.

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