LObster Pot

Published 12:00 am Saturday, March 17, 2001


God must giggle at our antics

I firmly believe that God spends a great deal of his time sitting back and issuing one belly laugh after another at the futile antics of the often hapless critters we refer to as humans. And we are a pretty hilarious lot, at best. This comes to mind because it is 4:45 p.m. on Thursday afternoon and my illustrious Managing Editor-in-training Lenny Gray, just ambled into my office and casually asked me if my column was ready for the next edition. I suppose the blank stare I gave him was answer enough, because he didn’t even flinch (much) when I explained that not only was it not written, I didn’t have clue what I was going to write about. Deadlines, also known as self-imposed instruments of mental pain and anguish to those of us in the newspaper business, are a fine example of what God is laughing at. Think about it – I’ve been dimly aware for more than a week that I was supposed to have a column ready for this weekend’s paper. So as any self-proclaimed procrastinating person would do, I tuned it out until it reached up and bit me. Now, I’m busting my tail trying to get something on this page to meet my promise. And I’m sure that God is giggling. God also creates a few special hardships, that I know were specifically designed to punish people like me. One of them is lawns. No, I’m not kidding! Lawns only have one real purpose on this earth – and that is to continually need cutting, weeding, fertilizing or edging when I’m supposed to be fishing. Lawns are worse than Honey-do’s because you can see them developing their case right in front of your eyes. And they always grow faster on the day before you get off work! Rain and wind are other examples of cockleburrs under the proverbial saddle. If you’re an outdoorsman, then you’ll instantly know what I’m talking about. Today is a perfect example. The sun is shining, the temperature is in the mid-seventies, there is very little wind and I’m working. Tomorrow is bound to be just like today. It will tantalize me with the promise of a gorgeous weekend and I will fantasize about running down to Grand Isle and catching some fish. Then, with the timing that could only be predestined, the wind will be blowing 20 mph on Saturday, or the clouds will move back and dump enough rain, for just long enough to make for another lost day. There’s a lesson here, somewhere, about the futility of Mankind’s best-laid plans, but I realize that God just needed someting to giggle about. Therefore, I’m going to finish this well-planned column, then go wash several loads of clothes, so I’ll be free of that duty when the weekend gets here. I’ll be ready, all right…to sit on the porch in the wind and rain, watching the grass grow ever longer. And I’ll know that God is giggling again. DAVID MARLOWE is editor and publisher of L’Observateur.