But first, yesterday. The guys herded themselves AND all male offspring into a 'Family Man Cave' for a day of patriotic Sunday football. My younger daughter - a founding cast member of our local children's theatre, "The Hurrah Players" - and I treated her little just five year-old, pre-K, 'what's-everything-all-about' lady to lunch and a matinee performance of Disney's "Aladdin".
Emma was familiar with the story. For her, the hero was an Ahab, "grand-ungodly-god-like-man". We had perfect aisle, ORCHESTRA seats. Perched on a riser, Emma had the best of views - of the entire theater. Larger-than-life sets magically changed; performers FLEW on and off stage; glittering, colorfully-costumed 'harem girls' swayed and sang. By contrast, the crowded marketplace, realistically energized by buyers and sellers of all ages and sizes invited her close scrutiny.
Then, Director Hugh R. Copeland staged several impressive, follow-spotted entrances from the rear of the theater. Performers walked, danced, ran and were royally carried to the stage, accompanied by musical fanfare and confettied fireworks.
The audience greeted each with enthusiastic waving and clapping. UNTIL. Two groups of fierce-looking 'palace guards' - clad in turbans, billowing trousers, bulging muscles and menacing brows and wielding four foot-long, curved, metallic sabres - charged down two aisles (one of which was immediately to our right).
Emma froze. A keenly-observant child, she had seen a sultan, heard of Arabian Nights, watched harem dancing and peered at poverty-driven crowds. THEN, we took her to the theatre. Emma, for a split-screened second, thought these guards could be taking over or "invading" her make-believe, magic cosmos.
Blue-green saucer eyes stared out from her white, spot-lit little face. Gratefully, the wonder and amusement of the child-filled audience plus a light hug brought her back to our make-believe reality. S-L-O-W-L-Y, she smiled - a tentative, guarded grin. Finally, her Sunday-best-dressed-body relaxed and she 'got back into it.'
On the way home, as she chattered on about her favorites, I thought of how vigilant we must be - everywhere - regarding exposure to our senses. So today, friends, I must encourage watchfulness. By this I mean be sure to be looking at your screen when what passes for commentary or advertisement dalliance is holding forth.
You see, if you don't (see), you may be exposed to unbridled warning from a bombastic announcer whose 'PSA' is aimed at post-operative female patients. The class in question - women who underwent surgery to correct incontinence. The specific procedure apparently involves the insertion of a corrective/helpful 'device'.
IF you are using ONLY auditory plus imaginative skills, this rapid-fire, elided delivery COULD lead you to believe the culprit about which you are warned is an implanted 'device'. Reported, catastrophic side effects are such that ANY potential 'victim' of the procedure/device implantation would demand to know whether she now wanders around dry but with "IT" embedded in her body.
I refer, of course, to the presumably eponymous "Herr/Doktor Mescherslink". If, indeed, said 'device' has a familiar ring to the casual, post-operative listener, she will call her surgeon STAT, inquiring, "Where's the label on that thing you put in or do I have to call the hospital and request my medical records. What's the deal here?"
And so on. ALL such potential histrionics could have been averted by insisting on proper elocution. The 'warning' is related to a "mesh or sling" that may have been implanted to correct this unfortunate condition. My warning is related to "CAUTION: the following may not be appropriate/comprehensible for all audiences. Parental (or papal or rabbinic or la mic) guidance is suggested."
Later, Lorane. . . .
