Sometimes Ya Gotta be Squirrelly!

In my family, I have the reputation of being, as my Dad would call it, “a little squirrelly.” What he means by that is a bit odd and unpredictable. Throughout my life my father has lovingly referred to me as squirrelly, off-kilter, twisted, or whatever word he happened to make up on the spur of the moment to describe some bizarre thing that I’ve done or said.

I wonder if I’m the way I am because that’s just who I am, or am I the way I am because I’ve been molded into the position in my family that I’ve always been expected to fill?

Either way, what I believe is that my father loves having a son who acts “squirrelly,” because there is a part of him that yearns to be squirrelly. However, a pastor is bound by duty to his congregation to keep his squirrellyness in check…no matter how hard that might be.

That being said, I’ve noticed that at times I tend to hear things differently than other people. Hearing things differently could be a somewhat hazardous thing. I mean if someone says, “Stop” but you hear, “Go.” Well, that’s a disaster waiting to happen.

However, that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about hearing the words and inflections differently. My pastor recently preached a sermon in which he made the point that the three words, “Jesus, Mary, Joseph,” could have a multitude of meanings and implications depending on the inflection used to say them.

Case in point:

Just the other day, my wife and I were going to lunch at Snuffer’s, a local hamburger joint. (By the way, they have the best cheese-fries in the world, if you’re ever in Dallas) We gave the girl our names and I asked if we had time to walk across the street to pick something up. To which she replied, “Go right on ahead.”

However, what I heard was, “Go write on a head.”

Now, don’t get me wrong, I heard it both ways. I knew what she meant, but I just assumed that my wife and the girl heard it both ways as well.

As it turns out…they did not!

You see I startled both my wife and the girl by grabbing her pen and moving toward my wife’s forehead as if to make a mark of some kind.

When I explained that I was only following the directions given to me by the girl, by repeating what she had said, my wife who, after 16 years, has come accustomed to me chuckled politely and started for the door. The girl however, simply stood there confused with a bewildered grin on her face as she held out her hand to for her pen.

Handing back the pen, the teacher in me sprang out and burst into a mini-lesson on homophones and inflection, but I quickly saw in her eyes that she simply wanted me to get the hell out. And with a shrug, I followed my wife.

Knowing my Dad, I’m quite sure he not only would have heard it both ways, but also would have enjoyed my little pen grabbing pantomime…because sometimes ya gotta be squirrelly.