I read everything in the paper. When the local paper and a weekly news magazine are your only sources of information from the outside world, you don't want to miss anything. Occasionally I even read my horoscope, not because I give it any credence but because sometimes it's funny.
Last week I read my horoscope and found this: "You will be entertaining and attract a lot of attention. Criticism can be expected. Answer questions with honesty and integrity."
Oy! The third issue is a give-away since I never could lie
convincingly. And I can handle a little criticism as long as I'm
permitted to cry during the process. It's that first statement that
concerns me. I've known astrologers, psychics and healers that are
obviously what they claim to be. I've even had a few psychic experiences
of my own. But I know that bulk predictions based on birth date are as
substantial as political promises.
Nevertheless, it stirred the cauldron of memory and I felt myself
writhing in remembered embarrassment recalling some of the ways in which
I've been entertaining and attracted attention.
These days I usually entertain only Shadow cat and wildlife, but now
and again I get publicly tangled in my own confusion. Recently I looked
over my shoulder while pushing a shopping cart. Shopping carts can be
cantankerous, but this one had a sense of humor. The tower of paper
towels nearly buried us and entertained lots of people, but no one was
hurt and nothing expensive was damaged.
It was on the stage of the Crescent Elk auditorium that I first
demonstrated my ability to be entertaining at my own expense. It was
Christmas season and the first grade angels filed onto the stage before
beaming parents and grandparents. As we did our little shtick I stepped
on the hem of my gown, sprawled flat and nearly slid off the edge,
causing front row parents to surge forward to catch me.
It was the beginning of a lifetime pattern. If three guilty kids were
proclaiming our innocence over the cookie jar incident, I'd drop mine.
Back in the days when I gave public presentations to various groups I
was always nervous but knew my best hope was to open my mouth and trust
Great Mystery to handle the details.
That led to my beginning an address to the Methodist Women's
Friendship Circle by blurting, "About 20 years ago I had DTs in the
drunk tank just across the street." I have no idea what else I said
since I can't hear when I talk and I was stunned at my unplanned
revelation. But they laughed a lot and afterwards fed me and kindly said
it was a great speech.
So you can see why the threat of being entertaining makes me nervous.
I'm thrilled to announce that my opinion of syndicated horoscopes
remains unchanged. I didn't make a public spectacle of myself last week
and all is well in my world.
Reach Inez Castor, a longtime Triplicate columnist, at