The Benefits

It might come as something of a shock to those that know me in person to find out that this lithe and muscle knotted frame was once a smallish and lanky kid. And by lithe I really mean klutzy and by muscle knotted I really mean soft as rotted fruit. But the history is still the same. I weighed in at ninety pounds up until high school where I then ballooned to a buck thirty six. Needless to say I never really cut an imposing figure and very rarely people asked me why I didn’t go out for sports. Later in my life, when my metabolism pulled an Oprah and quit, the repercussions of my pizza/beer diet combined with the effects of my rigorous Xbox schedule to frame a person that kind of looks like Jim Carrey with a paunch. But once upon a time I was small.

The thing that I liked the most about being small is that it tended to allow me to fade into the background of wherever I was. I could observe what was going on around me without feeling like I should be a part of the action, which suited me fine because I never really felt like I had a lot to contribute. No matter the subject, it always seem ed that there where people that where more knowledge able or funnier than I was present, so in my mind saying anything would only steal the shine from where it belonged. If I did find myself in a situation where I was the vanguard of the conversation, it generally meant that the discussion had degenerated to the point that my common observations or banal comments became the cement that held together the very lowest common conversation denominator. Unless the topic on hand was video games, Violent Femme records, or how much I like Hawaiian Punch, chances where that I was just happy with social voyeurism.

But the thing that I miss the most about being small was the fact that the natural world seems to prefer that kind of frame, and rewards the tiny with special benefits. Where I grew up there where plenty of trees to climb, but more than that, there was a very specific node of branches in a particular maple in a copse of trees behind my parents house. And just like in The Secret Garden that node formed a perfect little seat that was perfect for reading. You would never know by looking at it, and I cannot think of a reason why my brother or sister would ever climb that tree, so I ended up viewing that spot as uniquely mine. It felt like a little part of the world that grew into shape just for me, and I loved it. But recently I spent time at my parent’s house and on a lark I walked behind their house to go to the tree that I remembered. Upon seeing that branch I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that there is no way that it would support my weight now, nor do I possess the spider-monkey qualities to ascend even if I wanted to test it out. In a very real way, I found that the world physically changes around you when you get older/bigger. Sure I can go into a bar now, but the trade offs are all the little, hidden corners of my world that where made just for me.

I think I’ll build a treehouse when the weather breaks.