turkey talk

I was making my way home tonight, pondering the universe and the possibilities of my weekend, when I saw something in the road. Approaching traffic had slowed, and pretty quickly I got close enough to recognize the hesitant waddle of a turkey in my lane.

Oh turkeys. I have many a story I tell of them at parties. And probably have told too many times. Nothing beats the one of the dumb bird that found himself stuck between the reflections of himself in the corner of intersecting windows at Tower Hill. I find their doltery amusing. Not so humanizing that I hesitate over my Thanksgiving meal – or indeed, maybe tonight’s dinner.

But when that blind oblivion to one’s reflection or holding up a line of cars that could kill you makes itself present in human beings, I guess I’m not so amused. Or tolerant.

So here’s where I admit I’m not as nice as I like to be. I don’t like stupid. I don’t want to say I hate it. I don’t even want to say that I look down on it. I get bored with it. Impatient, yes. And certainly, if I didn’t have the wiggle room of an extra hour before my dinner plans, the stupidity of that bird interfering with my life would escalate into irritation.

It is curious that I stumbled upon this turkey (and his either more intelligent or less brave friends lingering on the sidewalk) as I was driving home contemplating just this lack of forgiveness in my nature. I don’t know if it is something I should fix in myself… or something that I should be standing up and shouting from the rooftops - “Being less intelligent is not a virtue.”

I’m not talking about how many initials follow your name on a piece of vellum. Whoop dee do. If you know anything about me, you’ll know my college education wasn’t exactly mainstream. Nor do I feel it is what got me to the adjective of intelligent. And, honestly, I don’t even like to use that adjective. I’m endlessly – voraciously – curious. Not to mention argumentative. Once I figure something out, I rest my brain for about two weeks and then go back to dissembling my resolution with a whole new bunch of questions and arguments.

But that’s me. I can’t expect the rest of the world to follow the philosophy of acquiring knowledge that I pursue. And… really… why should I? But, come on, shouldn’t we all be pursuing knowledge? Honestly, don’t people… get bored not knowing things? With just having one source of … foxy noise?

Well, maybe this is why I have lonely patches in my life. I suppose this is where my hidden meanness and snobbery manifests itself. But, I don’t see it that way. I have fun vacuuming up details to stash in my brain and pull out at dinners, when people just look at me in confusion. Maybe… maybe I’m really the turkey. And maybe that’s why I smiled when I stopped my car in front of him while he decided to move or not this evening.

But… now that I’ve thought about it… well, that’s what’s for dinner.