Pine Nuts: Hail to the faster, higher and stronger. Now onward to 2028 Olympics in LA
Submitted by Jeff Munson on Sun, 08/11/2024 - 4:11pm
I read an interesting account this morning of Chinese college students pretending to be birds to escape the rhythm of their daily grind. Of course I immediately empathized with these students, I having a pet Steller’s jay named Huckleberry, to whom there is never a dull moment.
I don’t exactly pretend to be a bird when Huck drops by at Happy Hour for his Beer Nut, though I do wave my arms up and down to welcome him, and he returns the favor.
Scoff as you may, this has been our routine for seven years now, and has kept the both of us healthy, happy and in good humor. Then this summer Huckleberry married a nice girl named Emmeline, and they brought into our Lake Tahoe paradise four beautiful babies, “Daphne, Jim, Tom and Becky, all of whom fledged last week from a nest they built aside my front door, and are hopping around the neighborhood today keeping everybody entertained.
Huckleberry is smart. He can count to two, and understands when I say, “You’re too early, Huckleberry, you must come back at five!” And he does.
For those gentle readers who have not visited Twain Haven to witness this ceremony, I will recount a few of the techniques Huck employs to get my attention. One, he will bang on the window with his beak, two, he will land on the flagstaff and wave the American flag, and three, he will fake his own death, I kid you not.
Just last week, when I was to be at the college with friends for some appetizers at five, Huckleberry followed my car to the college, and stood over me in anticipation of my dropping an appetizer onto the grass, which I did to please him, and then he went home.
Finally, I’m so glad the Olympic Games are over and I don’t have to spend another day feeling inadequate and reminded of my failed attempt to qualify for the Tokyo Games in ’64, when I landed so flat on a swan dive, that they had to help me out of the pool with a skimmer.
While watching this year’s Olympic diving I bit my lip and muttered to myself, “Oh, so that’s how it’s done!” Then I pictured myself on the podium in place of the rightful occupant, while I gave a wave to adoring fans who were not there. Never mind that I cannot stand on my head anymore, much less execute a double back somersault in layout position on the ground. Wow! And yet the steeplechase goes to those who can run fastest in soggy shoes. I don’t get it.
Congratulations to NBC for their excellent coverage. The camera work was out of this world. I was enchanted by the expressions and body language those gifted athletes radiated as they got their game faces on. Priceless! Hail to the faster, higher, stronger! Can’t wait for 2028 in LA. Maybe I should start taking care of myself.
— For more than 35 years, in over 4,000 performances, columnist and Chautauquan McAvoy Layne has been dedicated to preserving the wit and wisdom of “The Wild Humorist of the Pacific Slope,” Mark Twain. As Layne puts it: “It’s like being a Monday through Friday preacher, whose sermon, though not reverently pious, is fervently American."
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