I was having a conversation yesterday with a friend. I do that occasionally. Our topic at the time dealt with a person's record and how far back our personal files and permanent records go. I wondered at the time if there's data in the computers about my first crime back in 1953 when I stole the neighbors' mail. My friend and I may do some research to see if I truly do have that record dating to age 5.
The words reverberate as if they were yesterday: You have a record and you'll never get a job. They were uttered by my mother directly to me shortly after the Federal Postal authorities left our house on Boyer Road. The cops left shortly after securing a promise from me that I would not go visit those dozen mailboxes down on the corner ever again.
That promise came shortly after my revelation that, yes, I did "empty" those mailboxes every day for three weeks and took the mail to the woods where I played "post office." The revelation came shortly after a gentle interrogation by those two Feds in suits and fedoras, with two witnesses present---my mother and my dad.
That scene at the end of our driveway surely provided an opportune moment for my mother to utter words that would haunt me for years afterward. It wasn't until I got a job, at age 13, ironing clothes for K.T. Littlefield that I started realizing Mother's words might not be quite as ironclad as they seemed on that summer day when I was so young, so scared and so impressionable.
While carefully ironing the collars, yokes, sleeves and bodies of Littlefield shirts in the solitude of K.T.'s kitchen down there on Fourth Avenue, I thought to myself---does K.T. know I have a record?
Must be she was out of town and didn't read the News Bulletin records column when I stole the mail, I reasoned. Lucky for me.
But the jobs kept coming. Never in my career as babysitter, house cleaner, dishwasher, Forest Service traffic counter, teacher, veterinary assistant, writer, strawberry picker, et. al. has my "record" kept me from getting a job, but the words still resound forcefully inside my head in 2007 as they did 55 years ago.
Don't ever assume; it will make an ass out of you and me---to be translated more vividly: Don't ever ASS-U-ME; it will make an ASS out of U and ME. Bill Sheffield, the U.S.F.S mechanic, said those to a group of us aspiring defensive drivers one day in Community Hall.
I was sitting with K.T. Littlefield's niece when I heard Bill's warning for the first time. I snickered and whispered them several times into Chris Moon's ear, tacking on the reminder: Don't ever ASS-U-ME, Chris, ya don't want to be an ASS, nor do I.
Well, Chris and I may have fallen short a time or two on that warning while driving 250 miles a day through Montana, Idaho and Washington forests checking back woods traffic patterns, but I'm sure she learned her lesson when she ASS-U-MEd it was safe to carry that giant, nonfunctioning traffic counter we had installed north of Nordman to the brand-new Forest Service station wagon and lay it down in the back end to be transported back for repair.
Later, when she sat on an office chair back in the Forest Service engineers office and noticed big holes forming in her pants and red spots beginning to irritate her legs, she learned not to ASS-U-ME and not to take anything at face value. That giant nonfunctioning traffic counter had been leaking invisible battery acid when Chris carried it to the car. It took a while for the acid to do its work on Chris' pants and her legs.
And, it took a while for us to realize later that we had ASS-U-MEd incorrectly when our bosses told us that battery acid had leaked down into the manifold of that brand-new station wagon and that we'd have to use the remainder of our summer salary to pay for the damage. Those guys were doing to us exactly what my mother had done to me at age 5. They were scaring the bejeebers out of us, and we were gullible believers.
After racing out to the car and seeing that the Forest Service green Ford was, indeed, still in one piece and not suffering nearly as much as Chris' legs, we learned not to ASS-U-ME that everyone is always telling the truth. So, learning "on the job that I would never have" never to ASS-U-ME because it makes an ASS out of U and ME, continues to reverberate and, fortunately, keep me honest.
I remember another situation at the University of Idaho when someone told me some Gospel words. It was Morris Hemstrom, the extension livestock specialist who served the U of I for decades. I took a horse production class from Morris while attending the university and preparing for the job I would never have.
One day, Morris told us that when horses are looking at something far away, they put their heads down to the ground. Now, Morris was an expert, but I'd lived on a farm with horses all my life. I'd never once seen any of our horses stick their noses to the ground while watching a deer bound across the field. I questioned my teacher, but he assured me his statement was true.
"You watch from now on," he advised me.
So, I did. That was 39 years ago. I've seen many, many horses looking at things in those years, and the only time I've ever seen them looking intently at stuff with their head near the ground is when they're searching for the next blade of grass. In fact, I've watched various horses in various settings over the years, and without fail, every time a dog, deer, bear, turkey, human or cow moves anywhere in their line of sight, their head goes up as do their ears. It's this stance that tells me to look whatever direction they're pointed and plan to see something that wasn't there five minutes ago.
I'll also issue an utterance that ought to stick in somebody's craw just like the no job, ASSUMPTION DEFUNCTION, equine eye contact statements stuck with me: horses are better guards than dogs. Dogs will bark at nothing; on the contrary, when horses look intently with their heads and ears up, there's gonna be something there. Now, it's okay to question this, but do your homework before writing in to debunk my assertion.
In the meantime, Bill Sheffield gets an A. My mother and Morris---well, I've always had great respect for both---but a lot of time spent staring at horses staring at something and work experience that never ends make me wonder where these folks did their research to utter the statements that have caused me so much undue concern throughout my life.
As my friend and I were saying, it would be fun to hear from folks out there who've had similar proclamations ruling their lives. If you've got 'em, send 'em in on the comments.
But--------don't ASS-U-ME I'm gonna believe them as Gospel.
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