It’s 6 AM, my eyes creep open, throw back the covers, swing my legs out of bed, checking to see if I can stand surely enough to hit the head.
Ah! I made it and as I addressed the American Standard porcelain I wondered what “Figures” of mine would be interesting to my woman- and man-kind enough to avail them with. I began to list some in my mind. To me the word Figures means the visual arts, Michael Angelo’s David, Winged Victory, the Statue of Liberty in NY Harbor, the acropolis, Mona Lisa, Rodin’s sculptures, something you can see, feel, or imagine.
What about numbers? Well, look how our fearless leader spurts out the “thousands, “millions” and “trillions” at the drop of a twitter, yet stumbles on into one of his own cowpies after another. That’s some American First figure.
Numbers, numbers everywhere, if I could only translate them in my mind into something meaningful. Having limited mathematical skills from a bout of childhood dyslexia, I could visualize the measurements of a yardstick, but talk miles or heights of mountains, depths of the oceans, and those figures escaped me. I was and still am proud that I mastered my 3rd grade times tables.
Today, figures like names of places and people escape me. Is it a sign of dementia or just plain forgetfulness? You know! I just can’t figure all of this out, so I’ll simply continue to count the petals on the daisy and not figure how many there are. Life’s too short, or too large; go figure.
© 5 June 2017
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