At some point in my early childhood my mother developed the habit of answering every request for a new purchase with the phrase, “Someday, when our ship comes in.” I’d ask when I could get a bike and she’d say, “Someday, when our ship comes in.” I’d ask about the possibility of a color television and would get the same response. This held me off for a while as I consoled myself with the belief that out there on the ocean and steaming toward our house was a huge boat stocked with Schwinn bicycles, color TV sets, the ever-elusive Sno-Cone Machine, and everything else my siblings and I had been asking for. But I wasn’t completely feeble-minded. One day it occurred to me that we lived nowhere near the water, and I began to worry that our ship would come in and we wouldn’t be there. What if we missed it? Even worse, other people who happened to be at the dock would see all the things being unloaded and they’d make off with our stuff. Sure enough, it wasn’t long before a kid named Eddie from around the corner announced that his family had gotten a color television for Christmas and he was getting a new bike for his birthday. Something was up, I just knew, because Eddie had never mentioned anything about his parents waiting for a ship to come in.
When I was in the second grade, our nun used to threaten us with physical punishment. It seems hard to imagine now, but this was the early ’60s and we had fifty-six students in our class. There were no teaching assistants or parent volunteers. It was just Sister and fifty-six of us, and when we’d step out of line or say something rude, she’d warn us: “Do that again, and I’ll box your ears.” What she meant, of course, was that she’d punch us in the head, the way Sonny Liston had punched Floyd Patterson to win the heavyweight championship. Somewhere in that vast sea of seven-year-olds, I sat at my wooden desk, hands folded in front of me. I didn’t yet know anything about boxing or Sonny Liston, but I tried to make sense of her words anyway, as our brains tend to do. We don’t tolerate gaps in our knowledge. Rather, we fill in the empty spaces with things we make up, just so the different parts of our minds don’t crash into each other and break into a million pieces. It’s a kind of mental packing material. I heard “I’ll box your ears,” and I pictured Sister marching up and down the rows of the classroom and putting little cardboard boxes on everyone’s ears. There was a connection, I was sure, between being punished and having to walk around with our ears covered in boxes, although I had no idea what it could be.
The light did come on eventually and I understood that Sister meant she’d punch our ears. I’m a little hesitant to add that I was well into my forties at the time. We were in the car on some long-distance trip and I blurted out, “Oh!” I nodded my head, still struggling a bit to tie up the last of the loose ends. I was imagining Sister wearing boxing gloves, knocking out Floyd Patterson. Suddenly it all made sense. My wife said, “Oh, what?” And I said, “Oh, look! It’s only forty-eight miles to Bangor.”
The stock market report was always given at the end of the evening news. The most important piece of information seemed to be the number of shares that had been traded each day before the closing bell. I was in the sixth or seventh grade by this time and knew nothing about Wall Street. My brain had a few solid facts locked away, but it was still mostly empty space, and in the case of the stock market, part of my mental packing material involved substituting the word chairs for shares. My image of the stock exchange, then, was that of a large open hall filled with thousands of people. At some point in the late afternoon somebody would ring a bell, which caused everyone to stand up and trade their chairs. (A little voice kept insisting that I should add music to the image, but I was too smart for that.) Even now, when I hear the words stock market, I first think of people trading chairs, and then I correct myself. In fact, of course, people are trading shares. Whatever they are.
In 1987, my daughter Allison was almost two years old and seemed to be suffering from some ailment. I can’t remember what it was, but I took her to the pediatrician, who gave me a prescription. He said I should wait a day or two before having it filled, and if the symptoms persisted I should then go to the drugstore. Allison was still sick the next day and I got the medicine, but she’d been sensitive to several drugs since birth and I was unsure about giving her this one. I looked at the bottle to see what the medicine was called and found the word Norefil. I asked a friend who was a nurse and she said she’d never heard of it. Then I called the pediatrician’s office and explained my concerns to the receptionist, who put me on hold so she could get one of the doctors on the phone to tell me about Norefil. As I waited, I looked again at the label on the bottle. In a flash of recognition I now saw that the words No Refill had been typed incorrectly. I began to panic. What would I say to the doctor? How ignorant was I willing to look? Most important, had I given the receptionist my name? Realizing that I hadn’t, I did the only thing that made any sense: I hung up the phone.
A couple of years later, the big news was that Communism was crumbling in eastern Europe. I called a friend to talk about the amazing things going on in Germany, especially the destruction of the Berlin Wall. Now it’s important to know that my friend lived in the central part of Connecticut, where there was a town called Berlin nearby. Also keep in mind that each time I said Wall, she thought I said Mall. This is the conversation, almost word for word:
“Did you hear about the Berlin Wall?”
“No. What about it?”
“They’re opening it up.”
“Uh huh.”
“They’re letting people go in and out.”
“Yeah. So?”
“What do you mean, yeah so? You don’t think it’s exciting?”
“Do they have a Bloomingdales? Or a Macy’s?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so. What does that have to do with anything?”
“I just don’t see what the big deal is.”
“The wall has been closed since 1961!”
“Well, I live twenty minutes away and I didn’t even know it was there.”
I wanted to give her a friendly lecture about keeping up with current events, but just the mention of 1961 instantly transported me back in time. Floyd Patterson was still the heavyweight champion, and nuns at our school were attaching little cardboard boxes to the ears of their students. The drug Norefil wouldn’t reach the market for another twenty-six years. The Berlin Mall was built, but no one was allowed in or out. A huge ship loaded with everything I’d ever wanted was cruising toward port. And the average daily volume on the New York Stock Exchange hit four million, which, in those days, was a lot of chairs.
Nonijo
November 14, 2010
I’m so glad I signed up for this. It’s like we’re at the kitchen table again on one of our visits back home. Didn’t realize how much we miss all this. Must be getting old.
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bronxboy55
November 15, 2010
I wonder if Joe knows who “Eddie” was. I’m not completely sure if that was his name, but somebody in the neighborhood got a color television way before the rest of us. I remember thinking that he could see the colors of Superman’s costume, and when he watched a baseball game the grass would be green. It was almost unimaginable.
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shoreacres
November 14, 2010
I am just laughing. “Mental packing material”? That explains so many things simultaneously I’m breathless.
And I have to tell you – while you were waiting for your ship to come in, I was concerned with sheeps that pass in the night. Would they bump into each other? Were they hungry? Did they mind being out in the dark? It took a long time to straighten that one out.
I do have a wonderful tale in much the same vein I can’t tell you because it would ruin the writing of it. Suffice it to say there were a lot of interesting stories swapped among the farmers and ranchers of South Texas when the Poor Little Urban Girl made her move to the country. I thought I was prepared for rural Texas, but I found out pretty quickly the cornfields of Iowa and the cottonfields of Texas are two different things.
As for that pharmacist -you were smart to hang up. You can’t believe how many conversations I’ve begun by saying, “I know you’re going to think I’m really stupid, but….”
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bronxboy55
November 15, 2010
And your comment has sparked several more memories for me, including the language barrier we bumped into after moving to Atlantic Canada. Maybe we both have another post here. I can’t wait to read yours.
I just looked it up and apparently sheep have poor eyesight, so I guess they would bump into each other. (Good thing they have all that external packing material.) In the process I also learned that it takes the small intestines from eleven sheep to make one tennis racket. There are some things I would rather not know.
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arborfamiliae
November 15, 2010
I had the “someday when our ship comes in” conversation with my boys two or three times today. Except I didn’t use the ship imagery. I like to vary the way I say it, so today I said “unless we come into some money…” I can only imagine what they pictured from this phrase. Perhaps walking into a big pile of dollar bills or gold pieces like Richie Rich and his friends used to play in.
“We don’t tolerate gaps in our knowledge” – excellent observation. Imagine the number of misunderstandings and misinterpretations that have resulted from it.
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bronxboy55
November 15, 2010
I’ve studied (or attempted to study) several other languages, and they all seem to be filled with these odd sayings, idioms, and slang expressions. When people say they’re fluent in five or six languages, I wonder how it’s possible — I’m still trying to catch up to English.
Your phrase “unless we come into some money” made me think of opening a door and entering a room filled with cash. Maybe your sons will think back someday to the time when they went from room to room in their house looking for money, opening door after door only to find brooms and coats and folding chairs.
I first noticed my own tendency to fill the gaps in my knowledge when I started to travel. I seem to have images of places I’ve never visited, and of course, when I get there they look nothing like what I expected. But it’s too hard to carry around empty slots, waiting to be filled with accurate information, so I use these distorted placeholders instead. Most of them, I’m afraid, will likely stay that way.
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Val Erde
November 15, 2010
Oh dear, Charles – I’m laughing myself silly here! This is brill! (And I love the way you summed it all up too!)
Sometimes adults make things less clear for children. I was always taught that one shouldn’t tell lies, and that ‘tales’ were stories. So when I was told not to tell tales, and even punished for it, this used to confuse me considerably. There I’d be telling my dad that my sister’d let the cat in* when she’d been expressely forbidden not to, and I was punished for ‘telling tales’. “I’m not! I’m not! It’s true, she did!” I’d cry. Why someone couldn’t just have substituted ‘gossip’ for ‘tales’ or given me the different meanings of ‘tale’ is still beyond me.
*And there, see – I just did it again!
😉
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bronxboy55
November 15, 2010
This reminds me of when we studied “tall tales” in our eighth grade English class, beginning with Mark Twain’s The Notorious Jumping Frog of Calaveras County. I was absent on the first day, so I missed any introduction or explanation of what tall tales were. I spent the rest of that week pitifully searching for the “tallness” in the stories.
You know, Val, it’s good that we can remember these sources of confusion from our own childhood. Maybe we can occasionally clear things up, right from the start, for children we communicate with. And as I try to understand changing technology and its effect on our language, I realize that this problem never goes away, does it? (I recently signed up for RSS Feeds and even turned on Cookies, but I’m still hungry.)
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Earth Ocean Sky Redux
November 15, 2010
I’m hooked. Each story you write is better than the previous, if that’s possible. And I love the cartoons you find. I say you change the name of your blog to All Bright Ideas.
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bronxboy55
November 15, 2010
Thanks, EOSR. I think I’ll keep the name, though — I’m already giving myself the benefit of the doubt.
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cooperstownersincanada
November 15, 2010
This is hilarious. Another excellent article. My parents have a story similar to yours about the Berlin Wall vs. mall. They translated a muffled voicemail message one day to mean that a friend’s dog had died. They then spread the word amongst their other friends that this woman’s dog had died. Soon people were offering their condolences, even though the dog was alive and well. It turned out that a distant aunt of hers named Aunt Dot had died.
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bronxboy55
November 15, 2010
What would be the appropriate reaction when you learn that the woman’s aunt had died and not her dog? Life is too complicated.
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Betty Londergan
November 15, 2010
Another one that had me laughing out loud — your writing is so vivid and the situations are so hilariously familiar … it’s just brilliant!!
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bronxboy55
November 15, 2010
By any chance, did you have the same nun? Was that you in the third row?
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jharris
November 15, 2010
well done, Charles. Perhaps my Barbie Dream Pool was on that same ship with your bike and color TV. Does that mean your pal Eddie was playing with my pool while I was unwrapping wool skirts and knee socks for Christmas?
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bronxboy55
November 15, 2010
Eddie playing with a Barbie Dream Pool? Not in that neighborhood.
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Amiable Amiable
November 15, 2010
Laughing out loud again! Norefil! Reminds me of my first job at an ad agency. I answered the phone for a co-worker and told him someone from Uni-Combs was on the line. He took the call with a puzzled look on his face and when the conversation had ended he informed me that the person was a rep from the magazine “Unique Homes.”
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bronxboy55
November 15, 2010
I’m pretty sure I would have heard it the same way. People need to speak more clearly. Or maybe we shouldn’t be allowed to use the phone.
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icedteawithlemon
November 15, 2010
I really enjoyed your post! Well written–and I especially liked how you tied everything together in the closing paragraph. I never had to wait for a ship to come in–I kept waiting for the day when money started growing on trees!
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bronxboy55
November 15, 2010
I forgot about the money tree. And I’m sure I heard about that at least as often as I heard about the ship. It’s amazing how parents all used the same lines.
Thanks for commenting, especially on what must have been a busy day!
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dearrosie
November 16, 2010
You really do have a knack for writing a funny story. I laughed so much when I read about the Norefil medication, that I started snorting which led to spluttering and coughing and my spouse came running to see whether I was OK. “Have you heard of Norefil medication?” I said, but when you say it out loud you know what it is, so he wasn’t amused. He muttered something about women… Not fair. All you men who laughed, better stop laughing.
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bronxboy55
November 16, 2010
I was pronouncing it NAWR-uh-fill, which sounds as though it could be the name of a drug. (“Ask your doctor if Norefil is right for you.”) It was one of those scary moments that caused me to wonder how many other areas of my life might be dangling by similar threads of miscommunication.
Thanks for your nice comment, Rose.
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dearrosie
November 16, 2010
I guess it’s my “foreign” way of pronunciation because I don’t say NAWR-uh… When I read it I too didn’t know what kind of drug it was, but when I said it out loud to my spouse I said it NO-RE so that’s when I fell down on my face… You’ve reminded me of many instances when people can’t understand my way of speaking English. Especially in the south!
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bronxboy55
November 16, 2010
I frequently have the same problem. It’s frustrating, isn’t it, especially when you know you’re speaking perfectly clearly?
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partialview
November 16, 2010
Or ”til the cows come home’. I’ve been struggling all these years with this one. And do it even today, when my father uses it. A very well strung post, as always. You bring laughter to people. How cool is that?!
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bronxboy55
November 16, 2010
Have you ever asked your father what it means? My mother used to say it all the time, and it made me wonder which cows she was talking about, and where they could have gone. She also said, “Hold your horses” a lot, which puzzled me in a similar way. I had toy horses, but I didn’t see what that had to do with anything.
If the laughter means we feel a little more connected, it’s pretty cool.
Thanks, Priya!
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partialview
November 17, 2010
The struggle is about imagining cows entering my home through the front gate. And yes, I did ask him. And like the usual, pat explanations I got from my parents on such questions, I did get the answer. Nothing fantastic. Just the drab routine that people who keep cows (and farms) must go through. Release the cows at the crack of dawn to graze and leave them to their own devices. Carry on through the day’s rigorous routine and when you are tired and ready for a lie-low, there come the cows back home at dusk. 🙂
I enjoyed the stories. And also the places my imagination took me. What I didn’t enjoy was insistence on the use of a dictionary. Though I do admit, however reluctantly, that those words have stayed with me longer. Like how I discovered the meaning of ‘crux’. Maybe I’ll write a post on all the things I’ve learned through the Ambiguous, too! Thanks for the inspiration!
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bronxboy55
November 17, 2010
My mother used to also say, “Once in a blue moon,” to refer to something that happened rarely. I have looked this one up at least a dozen times and can never remember what it means — two full moons in the same month maybe? I’ll have to go look it up again.
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Mitchell Allen
November 16, 2010
Charles, from this day forward, whenever I’m struggling to explain how my impaired hearing has led to some hilarious conversations, I will link to your essay and tell the reader, “Just scroll down to the part about Berlin.”
You have captured perfectly, the innocence of youth and the frailties of the overwrought adult. I love the imagery of mental packing material. It helps to explain stress: if you shake a loosely-pack box hard enough that the content jostle one an0ther – despite the peanuts – you can understand why a stressed-out daddy would sputter nonsense like, “just put the milk back in the oven and get me the keys from the soapdish! We’re running late … eye-ten-by-ten!!!”
(That last utterance is the only one that make sense – when we’re stressed, don’t we fall back on familiar phrases to prevent stuttering? “I-10 by ten” was a funny movie line that I loved for its succinctness: ‘Hurry up!’)
I’m glad to see that someone more eloquent than I has tackled the mental meanderings of a thoughtful life.
Cheers,
Mitch
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bronxboy55
November 16, 2010
Thanks, Mitch, especially for explaining eye-ten-by-ten. I don’t think I’ve ever put the milk into the oven, but I’ve been equally absent-minded in plenty of other areas. Just the other day I took a new tube of toothpaste out of the box, set the box down on the bathroom sink, and nearly dropped the tube into the garbage. I don’t know what’s scarier: catching yourself doing those things, or wondering how many times you didn’t catch yourself.
Looking forward to your next post.
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Jac
November 16, 2010
I guess I am one parent that doesn’t create such interesting mental pictures for my kids. When they ask for stuff that we can’t afford, I just suggest that maybe they could find a rich couple and get adopted by them. So far, they’re all still here. Perhaps they do create a mental picture of parents who are worse than the ones they have and it scares the bejeebers (sp?) out of them. Of course now that I wrote that, I’m wondering what a bejeeber looks like and where does it actually come out? Hey – I’m making mental pictures for myself!! Maybe I need to increase my dosage of Norefil again…
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bronxboy55
November 16, 2010
I think your clarity is healthy. At least the kids know where they stand. I remember when Mom would get impatient with one of us and she’d say, “Go see where you gotta go!” That one still makes my head spin.
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Jac
November 16, 2010
Just realized who Eddie might be – did he have a younger brother named Joey?
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bronxboy55
November 16, 2010
Could be. But I may be combining memories. There was a boy who got a color TV in the early ’60s, and there was a boy named Eddie. There was also a boy named Joey. And Vinnie and Rocco and Angelo. Take your pick. All I know is, we didn’t get one.
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Jac
November 17, 2010
I guess you only remember the Italian kids! Don’t you remember Tyrone?
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Mitch
November 18, 2010
What funny stuff! Two things. One, I’m probably the only person here who saw Bangor and thought “That’s hours south from where we live”.
Two, sometimes those misunderstandings were intentional. I remember when I first learned that my mother could lie; I was in my 30’s when I found out that she’d lied to me as a little kid by telling me if I ate cookie dough I’d get worms in my stomach. Can you imagine going 25 more years before realizing you’d been duped?
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bronxboy55
November 18, 2010
I can easily imagine it, Mitch. I’m going to make some cookie dough right now.
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Mitch
November 22, 2010
I just want the cookies after they’re baked. lol
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swarovski
February 28, 2014
I am regular reader, how are you everybody?
This piece of writing posted at this web page is actually nice.
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Anonymous
April 4, 2018
I stumbled onto your story today.
I must tell you it made me laugh out loud.
Thank you for a great start to my day 🙂
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