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rags

Skin Deep

Posted by rags on Aug 02 2008, 11:00 AM

We are amazingly self-contained, all of us species on this planet, we really are. I'm most interested in the human beings as, for the most part, I'm considered to be part of that tribe, and I'm supposed to know something about me after fifty-six years (and what I seem to know is that I don't know what I don't know).

We, no matter our age, height, weight, IQ, always have just enough of everything to keep us alive. We have long enough leg bones to reach our feet (and relatively uniform, all things considered--I've not sure how fearsome a defender the Boston Celtics' Kevin Garnett would be with a right leg eighteen inches shorter than his left) and with enough skin to keep our insides inside and the outside from being inside.

It's that part I find so intriguing, though I'm not sure why. I was present for the birth of both my son, Patrick, and my daughter, Michelle (as was my wife, though 'present' doesn't really capture her involvement) and they both arrived covered in skin. They had little tiny fingernails, which was good as they had little tiny fingers, and whispers of eyelashes (and how do we know babies can't see at birth?) but, again, every inch of their body had skin.

I'm smiling as I type this, because there are few scents more memorable than that of a newborn child and I used to tease them when they were infants and didn't understand language (come to think of it, how do we know that?) after giving them a bath that they had 'that new baby smell'.

Patrick is 26 and Michelle 21, and they have regular sized everything now (in just the right proportion-no running in circles for them) and they're still all covered in skin. But here's the part I don't get: where did it come from? Our children are not Sharpie dogs who always look like they're wearing all the clothes they own, on top of each other. And we have I don't know how many layers of skin, or epidermis (if you drink imported bottled water), and yet we didn't show up with it.
So when I aggravate someone and under his skin, I guess there's some solace in knowing that he can afford it.

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I am Joan and Bill Kenny (Sr)'s first-born child, Bill. You might have thought they would have quit while they were ahead. No such luck, as fate would have it and we are all better for their persistence. As a Child of the Cold War, I learned to love the bomb, hide under my desk and turn my face away from the window in the event of atomic attack and grew up with constant companions, Crusader Rabbit and Rags, whom I adopted as role models. I am not sure I have ever fully recovered after learning they were only animated cartoons (I'm too afraid to even ask about the other rituals). I believe in reincarnation mainly because there is so much I am just not getting accomplished in this life and hope to catch up in the next one. In that case, I hope I can still read my own handwriting on that "to do" list I left for myself. I live with the long-suffering love of my life in the Rose of New England, Norwich, CT, where I have tried hard in recent years to be less of a thorn than previously, with close to zero success.
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