Wise Creatures: An Observation From the Chronicles of Mailman-in-Exile
on Friday, September 3, 2010 at 5:10pm
9/2/10
An interesting flourish came to my head yesterday.
From the beginning:
Dateline: 7:55 AM, embarking on a guided day tour of the Highlands, Loch Ness, and Glencoe. The tour commencing remarkably, enough—arriving at the rendezvous point in George Square, huffing and puffing and out of breath, having run as fast as I could, making it to the bus in the nick of time. The young tour guide hands me a pocket-sized bottle of Scotch Whiskey. I can see that everyone else on the tour had been issued one as well.
I’ve never been on a tour where the hand out free liquor so soon after the break of daylight.
I guess, only in Scotland, right?
Came in handy too. A few swigs of the booze did take the edge off throughout the day.
I’d say that moment has set the tone for quirky little happenings.
Fast forward to about noon: We stop for lunch. I notice a small keychain/liquor flask on sale, a “Mini Celtic Hip Flask” to be precise. One of those little dispensable products that every once in a while, I get the urge out of the blue to buy, simply “because it looked lonely.” Just £4, I might add. I’m keeping it full and in my side pocket. Be prepared, as the motto goes. Little trinkets make the most symbolic icons, in this man’s opinion. Of what they symbolize is in the eye of the beholder.
Recall for example, what I believe was Pauline Kael’s observations in her review of the 1981 David Cronenberg classic, Scanners. * The fact that the film employed many symbolic set pieces and images, such as the logos of its fictional corporate logos, not unlike those of AT&T and Apple Computers, and the scene where a payphone is shown to literally melt in a man’s hand (mass communications makes for the most imaginative emblems, so the irony represented in a melting phone is hard to miss).
Fast forward again: Time is now approximately 1:30 PM. I’m inside the gift shop at Urquhart Castle. The amount of picture books, posters, and stuffed toys featuring Highland cattle takes my eye. I recognize the creature. I had known one personally not more than a year and a half ago.
Flashback to February 2009, Gingin, Western Australia (My how so many so many roads seem to lead back to my Aussie wwoofing farms). The family in charge kept one such Highland cow on the farm. A huge, hairy old animal named Jock. I recall many times in my three-and-a-half weeks on that farm my walking past Jock’s pen, handing him clumps of hay for his meals, always careful to avoid his biting my hand, regarding his lumbering form as he grazed and chewed peacefully from behind the fence, eyeing me blankly, and my not giving much thought at all as to what might be going on in his head. At that time I had been ignorant of the creature’s title, and of Scotland being its native habitat. I’d just mentally referred to him as a “steer.” But now, come to think of it, I’m beginning to remember the farmer mentioning Jock’s being imported from Scotland.
Now forward to the present in Urquhart Castle gift shop: I pick up a copy of The Wit and Wisdom of Highland Cows, described on the front flap as “a heart-warming gift book packed with photographs of all varieties of Highland cow in their beautiful habitat, accompanied by words of wit and wisdom that will bring a smile to your face and make you pause for reflection.” The book is by Ulysses Brave, described on the back flap as “a self-help guru specializing in animal consciousness.” Now how could I say no to such glowing self-description, (hehe).
I buy the book. It is £3.50, fifty pence less than the whiskey flask, if that’s hard enough to believe.
There is also a counterpart book next to it starring West Highland terriers as the title animal, but I find them a less effective inspiration, given that these little dogs are too damn cute, and very distracting from the words of wit and wisdom. After all, according to Wikipedia, that heartthrob of teenage girls everywhere, Robert Pattinson owns one as a pet. Do I really need any more friggin’ Twilight reminders? All that is needed to obfuscate a message of supposed self-help.
It is now 2:30 PM. After exploring the castle, I am now on the deck of the small boat, cruising along Loch Ness. Thumbing through the pages of my new purchase and taking notes in my memo pad, I think back to big old Jock, the Highland cow in Australia. In retrospect, I realize that my mistake was in not seeing the big picture: that behind Jock’s bulky and blank looking exterior, perhaps he knew something in life that I don’t.
Consider for a moment: Whereas cattle in general are long dismissed as being essentially stupid creatures, the Highland cow emits an aura of all-knowingness, albeit a detached all-knowingness.
I’d extrapolate more, but I’m too tired and the intellectual juices are spent, so for now, this entry—too be continued…
* I don’t have Pauline Kael’s exact review on hand right now, so I am basing this reference entirely from memory. The powers that be may censure me for improper citation later.
From Glasgow, Scotland
This is Joe the Mailman
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