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The other day some guy told me that SCUBA was an acronym
not an actual word.
And all of my life I had believed it was a word
and been living this lie!
It stands for Self Contained Underwater Breathing Apparatus.
I didn’t know this.
And I didn’t care.
Now in the infinite void that is my brain a couple of neurons
have been synaptically tied together to remember
this piece of useless information.
And I was saving those neurons for a pleasant memory
involving either a hotdog or a donut.
But SCUBA had ruined it.
SCUBA has ruined everything.
Of the 1% of my brain that I actually use these were some
of the only neurons I knew how to get to and back from
without leaving a trail of bread crumbs.
Yes, SCUBA had ruined my life.
I would never have that pleasant memory of a hotdog or a donut.
As I watched men and women strut proudly down the street
to work in their SCUBA attire and stovepipe hats…
Yes. I forgot it was Lincoln’s birthday.
I hated them.
Especially, as they walked by eating hotdogs and donuts.
I imagined them without hotdogs and donuts.
I imagined them dead.
I imagined them in their underwear.
In case I got nervous because I had to give them a speech.
When I am on my deathbed and unable to recall my hotdog
or donut memory I will shake my fist and curse SCUBA.
I’m a teacher.
Always have been.
Always will be.
It gives me hope that in some way what I do
will make a difference in somebody’s life.
Especially, when I have a new class and I address them
at the beginning of the semester:
“OK. Who’s ready to begin their SCUBA certification?”