Road Apples by Tim Sanders
May 20, 2013
|
Reflexive Responses There are reflexive responses, and then there are reflexive responses. When Moe tried to poke Curly in the eyes and Curly put his hand in front of his brow, that was a reflexive response. When your doctor takes that little rubber hammer and taps your knee and your foot darts forward and teaches the doctor to be more careful where he stands next time, that is a reflexive response, too. Reflexive responses happen when your brain goes on cruise control and you simply respond automatically, without thinking. These can also happen in conversation, when we've become so accustomed to saying certain things that our response to certain questions just pops out of our mouths automatically. Here are some reflexive verbal responses: WE SURE NEEDED IT! - For most of us, this is not a reflexive response to higher property taxes, another Pee Wee Herman movie, or flea infestation. No, it is a perfunctory response many individuals give when rainfall is mentioned. And the amount of rain is often unimportant. Scott Wright's recent article about normal operations being shut down at Weiss Dam due to heavy rains served to illustrate the point, reflexive response-wise. The article itself contained a lot of valuable information about megawatts and turbines and spillways and tailraces, none of which I understood, and none of which had much of anything to do with reflexive responses. Actually, the only thing I noticed which might have signaled an automatic reflexive response in that article was the following quote: “... Weiss Dam Hydroelectric Manager Ted Pyron told The Post that amount of water coming into Weiss Lake gets him and his five-man maintenance crew to hopping.” I suppose all of that hydroelectric hopping could be reflexive, but I am no expert on dams. All I do know is that the copious amounts of rainfall we've had over the past three weeks have become wearisome, and caused a lot of problems with Weiss Lake water levels and Coosa River levels, too. But reflexive responses being what they are, when I was talking to a gentleman the other day and mentioned the overabundance of rain we'd been having hereabouts, his response, “Well, we sure needed it,” shouldn't have surprised me. But it did. He was on his way to the store, but I noticed he had a life preserver and swim fins lying on the passenger seat, just in case. I have no doubt but that during Noah's time, as that huge wooden floating menagerie, drifted off into the distance, at least a dozen reflexive responders were left treading water, shouting through their snorkels, “WE SURE NEEDED IT!” OH, HOW CUTE! - We all do this, or variations of it, when somebody shows us photos of their newborn baby, or grandbaby, or niece, or nephew. Newborn babies are usually helpless looking little things with powerful lungs and the ability to poop in large quantities. They are not however, when they first emerge, cute. Their birth is a very traumatic thing for them, and immediately afterwards their little heads are usually misshapen, and their little faces are the approximate color of a stop sign. When I see a photo of a newborn, I realize that if that child grew to age four and still looked like that, his parents would have searched the world over to find a specialist to correct the problem. I am tempted to say “Don't worry. It will get better. We've had two of them, and after a few months they grew more hair, sprouted some teeth, and looked just fine.” But before I can say that, my automatic reflexive response kicks in and I congratulate the proud relative on his beautiful new baby, or grandbaby. Hey, new babies are supposed to look like Winston Churchill, aren't they? JUST FINE! - This is actually one of two very different reflexive responses to the question, “Hey Bob, ain't seen you in awhile. How've you been?” The “just fine” response is one we all learned as children. Remember learning to write a letter, and how we always were told to be polite and say something noncommital like “Dear Jim, how are you? I am fine ... etc.” At the other end of the spectrum, the reflexive response to “How've you been?” was probably also learned in childhood from a hypochondriacal parent, and involves a long litany of how the person in question “has really been,” bless his heart. The list of complaints starts with hair loss, headaches, bad sinuses, allergies, skin disorders, dental problems, stiff neck, and continues on down the torso, with acid reflux, heartburn, gallstones, colitis, hernias, arthritic knees, varicose veins and so on and so forth, with frequent side trips into specific episodes of near-death experiences. These are the people who know their own bodies like ... well, like their own bodies, and are always ready to launch into their symptomology whenever some unsuspecting victim asks “How've you been?” It's not their fault, it's reflexive, and they are on automatic pilot, mentally speaking. REFLEXIVE BARKING - Many years ago, when our family lived in the Atlanta area, I came across a radio station which featured a preacher and what I thought was his dog. “Hey Marilyn,” I said, “listen to this.” The preacher was delivering an impassioned sermon, and each phrase was punctuated by the sound of a dog barking. It went like this: “This is a sinful old world. BARK! Evil men are all around us. BARK! Waiting to steal our daily bread. BARK! Before it's even half-baked. BARK! And in the 26th Chapter of Proverbs, BARK! We see that a fool and his money are soon parted. BARK!” I wondered how he trained his dog to bark on cue like that, but Marilyn explained that there was no dog in that radio studio, and that the noise I heard between those dramatic phrases was only a vocalization on the preacher's part. I guess it was a reflexive response to his own eloquence. I never knew the preacher's name, but after that we always referred to him affectionately as The Reverend Bob Barker. But if, unlike the rest of us, you never use reflexive verbal responses, you can always strike your knee sharply with a claw hammer and enjoy the other kind. |