Of Horses, Birds and Muffins

Dearest Rachel –

I came up to the home office to update my weight chart (I seem to be once again stuck at a plateau, unable to move the needle unless I cut back down to no more than a single meal a day. Still, at least I’m staying a long way from where I was as of the late summer), and completely forgot about it once I was up here. Not that what I found myself doing was so much less important; everything I do is equally important or unimportant, depending on perspective – apart from my morning reading, which is indisputably important, as long as I give it my undivided attention, which I’m not sure I did. It’s just that the original intent of going upstairs got lost in the process.

One of the things I found myself doing was further scanning of your parents’ photos – mostly the ones of our holiday visits to them (and theirs to us, as well) and our trips with them to the island. Which should stand to reason; those are the ones in which you and Daniel appear (me, not so much – there were a couple of years in which I didn’t have the vacation time, or was ordered not to take vacation during the period in which we were closing the books). And I found myself contemplating your mom’s comment about the different types of people, which you would quote to me early on in our relationship.

Basically – and if I remember correctly, she learned this from her mother, in turn – there are three types of people; horses, birds and muffins.

It all has to do with one’s work ethic, and you could tell from her description which one she preferred you to be (with the obvious implication that you weren’t): the horse. It’s suggested in the name; you think of the term ‘workhorse,’ and you automatically see where this analogy is going. I think we could both agree that your mom thought of herself as one, especially in the kitchen, where she would constantly be complaining about all the work she had to do in order to get things done and ready in time for dinner. On the other hand, I learned quickly that offering to help was akin to trying to ride a bucking bronco; any attempt to assist was met with complaints that I was doing it wrong, whatever ‘it’ might have been. And maybe I was, but clearly, she had her system, and woe betide anyone who messed with that system.

If that’s what a horse is like, they don’t do well in terms of breeding other horses.

Of course, in this day and age of technology, that may well be perfectly okay, if not necessarily preferable. Just as the horse used to be an essential part of civilized society, until things like the railroad (i.e., the “iron horse”) and the automobile (the “horseless carriage”) superseded them, so too does automation and artificial intelligence threaten the worker – at least on an industrial level. In the home, I suppose we have a ways to go before that becomes an issue; in the meantime, encouraging children to remain industrious is probably the best course of action, although how to do it is the key. As I said, all your mom encouraged me to do was to stay out of her way, and by so doing, I think she thought of me as more of a muffin than anything else.

And I’ll get to that (eventually), but I’m pretty sure I’m better characterized as a bird instead. Certainly, that was part of what brought me to this train of thought in the first place – both figuratively and literally. Literally, because as I was going through your parents’ photos, instead of updating the spreadsheet I’d come up to do in the first place, I realized that I was flitting from one task to another, without really throwing myself into one and focusing on it, in order to get it done. Figuratively, because seeing her in those old pictures reminded me of her assessment of people, and where I likely fit in her little continuum.

And it’s true; whether in the ‘office’ at my parents’ – where I bounce back and forth between answering (and sending) emails, going through and updating the books for camp or church, writing you, reviewing my newsfeed or working on my AI art project (including studying how to use the various tools involved) – or the office upstairs at home – where the AI project is replaced by the scanner, and all those old photographs (which I now need to edit and upscale at some point), but all the other distractive tasks are still there to demand my attention, at least occasionally – I can’t stay focused on a single thing for very long anymore. In fact, the only time I’m really able to stay focused on a single thing…

…is when I’m being a muffin. When the boys are hanging out together in the family room, and I’m holed up in the bedroom near the end of the day, I just find myself sitting around, and staring at the screen as it plays on video after another. Well, actually, I have to choose the next one each time – I don’t have it so far that it just runs automatically, I’ve not gotten that lazy (yet). It’s the sort of thing that the two of us would curl up and do sitting on the bed together, but these days, I just stay in the recliner next to the bed. It’s not like I’m sharing space with anyone at this point, anyway.

Needless to say, your mom had a problem with muffin-type people, and would get on your case to make sure you wouldn’t become one. Honestly, I don’t know how to keep a person from developing into one (certainly, what Daniel’s become would be proof of that, for the most part), but I don’t know if her methods were the most ideal, either. After all, you would admit to being somewhere between a bird and a muffin, just like me, neither of which were types to aspire to, according to her – but those are the results she got.

Still, isn’t that what we all work for, so that we can afford to rest? I always think of the old joke about the vacationing American, telling the native fellow how to work for the next twenty or thirty years to make a multi-million dollar nest egg, so he could retire to the very place he already lived, doing all the things he was already doing. The horse dreams of being a muffin, even as it may outwardly express disdain for it. But maybe that’s just my take on it, honey.

Anyway, I’ve a half-dozen other things to do, so I’ll let you go for now. Take care, keep an eye on me, and wish me luck. I’m going to need it.