Talking to a Post

Down through the years I have heard many a reference to fence posts. Plus, growing up in Kansas, I had quite a few opportunities to set some fence posts too.

Now Ol' Dutch isn’t immune to local dialect and have written about some of that in the past and how interesting it can become.

All my life I have heard people say “he is dumb as a post.” And when referring to someone who won’t listen, folks say “I might as well talk to that fence post over there. ” Once again, it shows how the plains states with their need for fences to hold in large tracts of land had a definite impact on our present day conversation.

Not long ago I had the opportunity to go to a concert and arriving early, Trixie and I elected to sit in the truck waiting on the crowd to arrive. They drifted in like sheep to a shearing and the beer was already flowing to early arrivals as evidenced by the riotous laughter and weaving footsteps.

Now Ol' Dutch has long been a surveyor of crowds and the results of too much alcohol and it became apparent that I was not to be disappointed with the swervin’ Mervins on this night out.

Trixie was her usual bubbly self and already starting to dance in the truck to the background music so almost missed what we-in-crowd-watching circles call “the golden moment.”

That is the moment in time where you see the most outrageous display of human interaction since Ms. Moggle the church organist split her pantyhose sitting down in the Middletown Methodist Church on communion Sunday and the untimely shouted, “Hallelujah” by the old bachelor Mr. Peevy.

Perusing the crowd the sharp eye of Ol' Dutch suddenly was drawn to a young man who was maneuvering his way across the grass seating area and talking to --- wait for it --- no one.

At least there was no one I could see. But being a longtime believer in UFO's and other phenomena Ol' Dutch gave him the benefit of the doubt as maybe he had on a Bluetooth and was talking to someone miles away.

Which reminds me of a another time when I was diligently and quietly, might I remind you, doing my duty in the bathroom at the local Wal-Mart when the guy in the stall next door started to talk to me. Now it’s unnerving enough having to use strange facilities for a private matter but to have someone try and enter into a personal relationship at the same time is just too much for Ol’ Dutch.

Not one to be rude, I answered a couple of times until he suddenly told the person he had on the phone that some nut was talking to him from the other stall and he would need to call back.

I never did find out who the nut was referring to.

But anyway, back at the concert, this young man kept walking toward the truck when suddenly he spied someone to actually engage in conversation:  an orange metal fence post about 5 feet in front of my truck.

Now for those of you who know me, you know I am not one to judge people too harshly but this was definitely taking a turn around a corner I had yet to see.

Not satisfied with the answers he was getting he proceeded to kick the post and then turned and addressed the next one in line. On and on down the line of posts he went delivering a stunning kick in turn to each one after a seemingly meaningful conversation.

Even Trixie, who has lived in California, the land of fruits and nuts, and has probably seen more outlandish characters than anyone alive, was shocked at the outrageous display against defenseless fence posts.

About the fourth post his face was suddenly filled with a rapturous glow and I figure he either finally won the argument or was satisfied with the answer he got and he slowly high stepped his way back to the free beer.

We lost track of him after that and are really not sure if he fell in the river or was laying over in the field somewhere. Or maybe he went to the emergency room with a broken toe.