In the fourth grade, Wendy Templeton farted… out loud. We had our books out, focused on our Scholastic readers. Her row of desks was facing mine. She was wearing a short red dress. Mrs. McNally, our stodgy old teacher who was nearing retirement, was at her desk in the front of the class. She was wearing a large, black pleated skirt down to her ankles. Damn that was a lot of fabric.
I couldn’t believe it… she just let one rip! It was loouud; I guess it echoed on the metal of her chair.
I felt bad. She was so embarrassed. Her light complexion turned the same color as her dress. She slouched in her seat and propped up her folder to cover her head.
I tried not to laugh, she was my friend. But when Mrs. McNally announced, “Get back to work, it’s a natural bodily function,” I lost it.
I don’t care how natural it was, it was also hilarious. I was sent to the hall, unable to contain my amusement with Wendy’s wind.
Farts are still funny to me. I’ll be in a bathroom at work or church and some old man will let one rip. It’s all I can do to make it out of the bathroom without audibly cracking up.
Once a boy, always a boy I guess.
Maybe it would serve us all well to be more like kids. I don’t mean we should all laugh when someone passes gas. The older we get, the more that’s gonna happen – certainly it will get old eventually.
But isn’t it beautiful to be amused by such small surprises? How wonderful to be totally fulfilled by a fart.
Now, it takes so much more – an expensive house, vacation, kids with straight A’s, 106 Facebook likes, the right job title.
It used to be so simple. Joy, amusement, laughter, and life seemed endless – striking me from every direction.
When and why do I let that go?
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