Thursday, April 12, 2012

Much like reading, volunteering is a phenomenon I understand is important, but marshalling the motivation to actually do it is a tall, tall order. Indeed, the order is so tall, it renders participation a rare, albeit fulfilling occurrence. Next Wednesday happens to be one of these unusual occasions, but what makes it even more unique is the mental prep I’ve been conducting.

It’s been years since my last foray into the space, which–to save you a click–was all about cooking spaghetti for recovering alcoholics. What drove me to return multiple times was twofold: I was determined to find the optimal texture for ground beef, prepared in bulk. I also wanted to eat spaghetti. This time, it’s an event sponsored by Junior Achievement, something about imparting basic business tenets to young people. I don’t know! I don’t know the details because, frankly, I seldom honor the word itself by truly volunteering–instead, I tend to be volunteered to volunteer.

The key difference here? Those recovering alcoholics were adults, and ours was a bluntly transactional relationship, with foodstuffs ladled onto outstretched trays. We’re talking about children this time. They’re impressionable, and maybe I’m thinking myself into a hole here, but the stakes seem just a little higher. I’ve decided to honor two commitments for the day. First, I pledge to speak to them as equals–no infantilizing the English language. Second, I vow to be less sardonic.

And since I don’t derive a natural joie de vivre from volunteering, I’ll need to find a good carrot. For the spaghetti stint, the quest for perfect beef was far more interesting to me than helping my fellow man. Selfish? Perhaps. But it drove me to go back, and it also lent me an air of authenticity, indirectly. I get the sense that the people on the receiving end can always smell out when you’re doing something simply for the sake of accruing brownie points. On Wednesday, the puzzle I’ll attempt to crack is how to communicate effectively with today’s youth. It begins, I imagine, with not referring to them as “today’s youth.” I may also need to read up on pop culture. Pokemon used to be the thing, right?  But I don’t know if kids are still trying to catch them all. They may have been caught already. Also, I hear Justin Beaver is all the rage with ‘tweens these days.

Tuesday, April 10, 2012

Some dogs are bred for hunting, others for pointing, others for retrieving, and still others for guarding, but the purpose of Pomeranians continues to elude me. That sounds presumptuous, so let me amend this to say that the purpose of the Pomeranian I looked after this weekend eludes me. Let’s set aside the fact that nature likely didn’t call for a dog that constantly wants to be picked up. Clearly, this is a strain of canine borne from the darker corners of the human psyche.

Even then, though, I couldn’t fathom which twisted breeder decided we needed a dog that a) shivers at fireworks, thunderstorms, or vacuum cleaners and b) is prone to yapping at, well, basically everything, all the time. I’m looking for something in the 50, 60-pound range, a little more sedate, with a bigger bladder–a dog you could give a hearty slap on the back without fear of, you know, crushing its fragile endoskeleton.

Or that’s what I was looking for, once upon a time. Now, I’m at odds with myself. This weekend drove home that fact that, even if I were to find the perfect dog, pet ownership would call for a complete lifestyle change. Waking up in the wee hours of the morning, for instance, expressly to experience fresh air. Remembering to supply food and water. It would be a seismic shift–and possibly exactly what I need.

Tuesday, April 3, 2012

Secondhand Rants will return on Tuesday, April 10.