But once or twice in our lifetimes we are called upon to show our caliber. Fate comes with all its devices and tears down the walls that protect us. When this wizard comes to drag us away from our cozy hobbit-hole we can choose to resist, to go kicking and screaming to our destiny, or we can roll with it and face what may come. Either way, we show our true self. We reveal the extent of our capability. The chance does not come often, and cannot be forced. We can only be ready, and do what is required of us. And it is only then that we know the true measure of our caliber.

And when the time comes, be careful that you don’t trip and fall into the lifeboat.

That was the first home of which I have any real memories. We lived there until my 4th grade year, and since then I have lived in many different parts of Searcy. But my first house remained on E. Park Avenue where we had left it, until recently.

 This is the first time that a place in which I have once lived has been destroyed. Now, it was blocking an avenue of expansion for Harding, so I always knew it would be gone someday, and besides I am not too sentimental. But this event does bring back many memories.

I remember when Alex and I got the chicken pox and had to stay in the living room watching TV all day.

I remember the bathroom with an open flame gas heater that felt so good after a bath. I also remember the large, round, smooth stone that served as a doorstop for the selfsame bathroom.

I remember playing Sonic the Hedgehog from the tan sectional couch downstairs.

I remember Alex and me staying up late one cold, wintry night watching some late night comedy show. We slept on the sectional, which was collapsed to form a kind of box. We were kept warm by means of the old franklin stove, which once spat out an ember that burned a hole in my backpack.

I remember memorizing our address by way of a jingle.

I remember getting the Macintosh Performa. I would stay up at night watching the After Dark screen savers.

I remember the pecan trees that we were never really big enough to climb.

I remember growing sunflowers in the little garden.

I remember making plateaus out of play-doh.

I remember Lucy, our dog. She was a very good dog. I remember when she had puppies late one night.

I remember when I stepped up on our old VW Beetle‘s exhaust pipe because I didn’t know that they got hot. I got a blister as big as a half-dollar.

I remember being in the big waterbed and being stung by some bug that had been trapped under the covers.

I remember getting my own room for the first time in my life (since Alex was born). Incidentally, he got his own room at the same time.

I remember Alex getting pneumonia. I also remember him falling off of the bed and busting his nose. That was traumatic because Mom and Dad weren’t home.

I remember the plum tree that never really bore any fruit (literally) during our stay in the house.

Eventually, we moved and rented the house out to people until my grandparents moved in. Once they moved out and the property passed out of our family’s hands, Harding jumped on the opportunity to expand their territories. However, even after the building was destroyed and the ground leveled, the house still served me. I was out this very night with two girls named Whitney looking for twigs to make a small tree and dirt in which to plant it. With the twigs in hand, I returned to 701 E. Park with a spittoon-like pot. The land had been flattened, so much of the dirt was piled up on the back of the property.  I scooped up some loose soil, on which I had perhaps played as a child, and filled the pot.

Who knows? Maybe that property will someday house a college classroom in which I teach. Only time will tell.

As time went on, we evolved to a more active, nomadic people who lived in tents. It was only natural for us to adapt as the world changed; adaptation is necessary for survival.

Now we are simpler, and cannot take the time to study these historical monuments of the past. Now, we must have the facts given to us on a platter, and so may I present: MyPlate!

The FDA has finally released a newer, hipper, simpler version of the dusty old pyramid. I mean, come on; how was I supposed to take the foods from the different pyramid bricks and put them on the dinner table. That’s too much mental work; I’m an on-the-go American! Now, at last, all I have to do is turn the Trivial Pursuit pieces into food and BAM: healthy meal.

In the distant future, where we actually do eat purple triangles to get our protein intake for the day, I’ll accept this. However, for the time being, what is this? I know that the FDA wants to do all it can for the American people, but I feel like they’ve sold out. The pyramid was, I felt, a tool for use by dietitians and other food experts, and even so it was not too difficult for even a child to understand. Now, MyPlate (not yours, mine) really seems like more of an article out of Cosmo than a tool for experts in the field of food.

I want the pyramid that my mummy gave me. I was wrapped up in it. Now I’m cursed with this one.

And now, here’s a look at what people have done to the plate:

And for anyone interested, here’s a jaunt down the history of food guides. Reading their reasoning on MyPlate makes the consumers sound like morons.

It was for my roommate’s wedding, and may they live happily ever after, but come on guys. To help you understand, that’s 260 miles away from Searcy according to my gps. I know you may be thinking that this was more convenient for one of the involved parties, but if my memory serves the place was chosen because it was equally inconvenient to both the bride’s and groom’s families. However, it is not the distance that was so bad. It was the trials.

I equate the trip to Shreveport to a greek epic. The hero (me and some other groomsmen) must travel to a far away land to slay some horrible beast (participate in a wedding). As we journey, the signs of the beast’s rampage are apparent. At first the countryside seems much as our own: people go about their business with enough food and joy to at least survive. However, every mile south saw towns becoming more scarce, and those that we did encounter were sparsely populated only by the bravest and most hearty of souls. It was a long journey, and we were hungry, but there was no food to spare. Search as we might, no one in any of the half-destroyed barns (which made up the majority of the buildings we saw) had so much as a morsel. The last third of our journey didn’t even have, like, a McDonald’s or anything. We only procured food once we reached our destination, and by then we had realized the true nature of the beast.

This far-off land of Shreveport was a bustling society, but judging by the famine and poverty without it was not a beast that had ravaged the land, but an evil tyrant, who had build his empire on a foundation of the destruction of the surrounding lands. Truly Apollo was angry with this horrible king, because he cursed the land of Shreveport with wretched spell of the must unbearable heat. However, our hero (the groomsmen) was of a brave enough caliber (obligated) to endure this heat, even though the wedding ceremony took place outside.

We celebrated our victory that night by performing musical epics of past heroes (we played rock band) and then returned to our native country.

So, that’s what it’s like to drive to Shreveport.

Song 1:

I lurk in shadows, I’m mastering telepathy,

However, I may uncover something that fills me with dread,

Something within his brain will lacerate him.

When I admit my affection, for some reason, he mentions:

Be quiet, speak softly, there’s an echo.

I fight to control my temper because it can endanger me,

He advises that I flee from my sadness and conceal it,

I attempt to conceal and muffle it.

Be quiet, speak softly, there’s an echo.

Song 2:

The summons to unite comes eventually for us to grant life to the perishing.

It is folly to believe that another will answer this summons,

Love will rescue our very distant kin.

All of the offspring of the planet comprise and illuminate it.

We are deciding to live, and it will not be as bad for just the two of us.

Song 3:

Even in darkness I darken my vision in order to observe you meandering and then exhale your tale.

I can also record my hallucinations.

During deception by that woman I am unsafe

She directs my action, I speak,

“Refrain from pulling a weapon on the man with darkened vision,

Refrain from putting up a front with him,

I do not comprehend,

That man is great for you.”

Song 4:

At the time whence we first encountered one another, you toiled as but a wench,

You were my selection, and so I performed acrobatics with you until you metamorphosed.

Much time elapsed, and now you have grown to astronomic proportions,

No hurdle has hindered you.

However, do not let this cause you to forget that the power resides not with you, but with me, and I can undo you.

Is it I that you truly desire, because I cannot comprehend that I am invisible to you.

Is it I that you truly desire, because I cannot comprehend that I am not required.

The time to make a choice has long passed. You’d best equivocate backward or you shall lament it.

There were mushrooms in my pasta. Oh, they were cleverly hidden among the broccoli and cauliflower, but I will not be fooled by such an impostor. At first I supposed them to be few, and that they may have fallen in from some other fungus-ridden dish. But no, my otherwise pristine dish was riddled with them. I wondered how such a thing could have happened. So, I wondered this aloud, and my mother explained why my pasta was experiencing a fungal infection: apparently, in the culinary world, mushrooms are grouped together with vegetables.

This did explain to me why someone might afflict me thus. However, it also drove the problem deeper than just my distaste of my lunch. Now the question was not one of food, but of life itself.

I have dabbled in many sciences, and realize that certain disciplines think differently than others. That being said, there is almost always a highest authority on any given study. The definition and categorization of life falls ultimately to biology, and that study has placed every living thing on the planet (Earth) into five or six categories. I say five or six because there has apparently been some debate recently as to the number of single-celled kingdoms. I personally don’t care about those.

The following is quoted from Wikipedia: “Currently, textbooks from the United States use a system of six kingdoms (Animalia, Plantae, Fungi, Protista, Archaea, Bacteria) while British, Australian and Latin American textbooks may describe five kingdoms (Animalia, Plantae, Fungi, Protista, and Prokaryota or Monera).” Protista, Archaea, Bacteria, Prokaryota, and Monera are all single-celled life forms. Ignoring those, science is in agreement that there are three multi-celled kingdoms: Animalia (animals), Plantae (plants), and Fungi (shrooms). I say all this to point out the premise of my problem with my pasta: not only are mushrooms not vegetables, THEY BELONG TO A DIFFERENT TAXONOMIC KINGDOM.

I consider myself to be a man of science. Not that I am making money while wearing a white coat and carrying a beaker, but rather I think logically. I have thought logically to at least some extent for years, since the days of my youth wherein I was taught about the five kingdoms. I then grew up, but never forgetting the things I was taught. Well, some of them. I think it comes at no surprise that, being an educated adult with a history of practical science behind him, I should be surprised to find mushrooms being equated to vegetables.

That’s all.

Eukaryotes, represent!