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Author Topic: Sawhorse  (Read 3025 times)

George Potter

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Sawhorse
« on: July 05, 2005, 10:41:20 pm »

For seven years the sawhorse sat in a single spot. It was in a grass free patch of dirt and gravel, just behind the house, where the first hint of a hill let those seven years be spent at a gently crooked angle.

      The boy was born five days after the sawhorse had been placed by the man in its seemingly eternal crooked spot.

      Seven years, and the sawhorse witnessed a lot. The boy witnessed more, because eventually he could run around and change perspectives. The sawhorse had a couple of advantages, though. It wasn't limited to eyes that had to blink, and limited to a partial cone. It saw with every inch of its body, a visual sphere of a gently crooked universe. The sawhorse had no need for sleep.

      The boy ran and made noise about the yard, while the sawhorse stood and watched everything in it's vision field. It watched seasons pass and weather work it's slow crumbling magic on the world around. Blue skies, and clouds. Bugs and little animals and leaves swarmed around it. Rain and snow and pounding light wore at it.

      Sometimes the man would come and place objects against the sawhorse and cut them in half. This was an occasional but interesting thing. Sometimes the boy would come and sit on the sawhorse, dangling his legs in precarious balance, or lean his whole weight against it as if exercising his young and healthy muscles in the sheer joy of motion. This was more frequent and, truth be told, even more interesting.

      One day the boy came to the sawhorse holding the tool that the man used to cut things with. The boy spoke to the sawhorse, a simple little speech that would puzzle the object for many days to come.

      "I see you sitting there, Mr. Sawhorse, and I figure you must me mighty bored after all this time in one place. I know I'd be mighty bored. First I figured I'd just move you, but then I got to thinking. After all this time you might get homesick for your spot here in the back yard. So I came up with another plan."

      And with that formality out of the way, the boy proceeded to cut the sawhorse in half. He did a pretty good job at judging the center, and the sawhorse felt no pain as the saw separated it into two distinct entities.

      The division complete, the boy drug one half of the sawhorse around to the other side of the house, into the front yard, where he placed it in a corner near the fence.

      Revelation and astonishment! For the sawhorse an entire new aspect of the universe was revealed. It now had two focal points from which to study the world. No longer was it confined to light when light came, and shade when shade came. One half was in the sun, the other half in the shade. It no longer had to ponder at what lay beyond the barrier of the house. Two viewpoints made the world even more interesting and mysterious and lovely!

      If the sawhorse had speech, it would have thanked the boy profusely.

      That night the boy got a fierce whipping for ruining a perfectly good sawhorse.
« Last Edit: July 05, 2005, 10:50:37 pm by George Potter »
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Bill St. Clair

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Sawhorse
« Reply #1 on: July 06, 2005, 07:00:36 am »

Hehe. Perspective is everything, eh?
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"The state can only survive as long as a majority is programmed to believe that theft isn't wrong if it's called taxation or asset forfeiture or eminent domain, that assault and kidnapping isn't wrong if it's called arrest, that mass murder isn't wrong if it's called war." -- Bill St. Clair

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Claire

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Sawhorse
« Reply #2 on: July 09, 2005, 02:02:26 pm »

Autobiographical?

In any case, it brought back a flood of memories of those times I did some innocent act as a child and my parents, from their perspective, automatically assumed it was malicious.

I gave a haircut to a doll that had "real, rooted hair!" because -- of course -- I thought it would grow back.

But to also bring in the "perspective" of the sawhorse ... now that's what makes you the best of us.
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Just as the flattery of friends often leads us astray, so the insults of enemies often do us good. -- St. Augustine, Confessions, Book IX, Chapter 8


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George Potter

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Sawhorse
« Reply #3 on: July 09, 2005, 02:06:21 pm »

Quote
Autobiographical?

A little. As a kid I had this weird habit of feeling empathy towards inanimate objects. The thing that nagged at me was: How do we know they don't think?

Yeah. I was a weird kid. :P
 
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Roy J. Tellason

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Sawhorse
« Reply #4 on: July 09, 2005, 10:25:10 pm »

Quote
Quote
Autobiographical?

A little. As a kid I had this weird habit of feeling empathy towards inanimate objects. The thing that nagged at me was: How do we know they don't think?

Yeah. I was a weird kid. :P
There are more than one of us around here...   :-D

And no doubt some of that comes from some of the weird disney-fication of things that's been pushed at us all the way along,  too...
 
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George Potter

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Sawhorse
« Reply #5 on: July 09, 2005, 10:33:35 pm »

Quote
Quote
Quote
Autobiographical?

A little. As a kid I had this weird habit of feeling empathy towards inanimate objects. The thing that nagged at me was: How do we know they don't think?

Yeah. I was a weird kid. :P
There are more than one of us around here...   :-D

And no doubt some of that comes from some of the weird disney-fication of things that's been pushed at us all the way along,  too...
Quote
And no doubt some of that comes from some of the weird disney-fication of things that's been pushed at us all the way along,  too...

Oddly enough, I didn't see a disney film until I was a teenager. Hell, I didn't see my first movie in a theater until the age of 14. (It was ROBOCOP. I know. But I loved it.)

All I did was read. The only TV I got to watch was Dr. Who and British comedies throughout my childhood.

But i was decidedly animistic, even from my early memories. I remember that I would eat two Starbursts at the same time, because I thought maybe they had made friends with each other and it would be wrong to seperate them. LOL

Hell, maybe Monty Python did it to me. :P
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