In the last few months here in the great luscious garden state of New Jersey, we find that teachers are retiring in droves or perhaps flocks. They are retiring at this time because they sense that shortly their benefits may be curtailed or removed through the generosity of the new governor, Chris Christie. This is probably a good bet in view of the fact that Governor Walker of Wisconsin is leading the charge among Republican governors to skewer state employees. Other Republican governors, particularly Chris Christie in New Jersey, are hot to do the same thing.
Why the governors announced the intent upon punishing teachers is beyond me. In recent weeks, I wrote an essay the burden of which was that if we diminish teachers, we are shooting ourselves in “both feets.” Several months have passed since that essay was distributed, but at this moment I can only say that my thoughts are the same. By destroying teachers, the governors are indeed shooting our youths and the future of this country in “both feets.”
Here in New Jersey we have Chris Christie, a bully for a governor who is being touted as the next president of the United States. He contends that in 2012, he will not necessarily be ready but he leaves open the idea that in future elections, say 2016, he will be ready. If we elect Chris Christie to the Presidency, it will be a monumental mistake on the order of the ascendancy of George W. Bush.
Some of the teachers are retiring to enjoy some of “those golden years” that have been talked about so much. As someone who has experience with “those golden years,” I take the liberty to inform teachers that the golden years are not that great after all. I know that students such as myself shouldn’t be talking back to teachers, but in this case I suspect that I know more than they do.
There are millions of ailments that afflict teachers and other oldsters in their declining years. To choose only one of them, there is the matter of strokes. Strokes are usually followed by seizures, both of which will impede the memory process. I should point out that strokes and their following seizures have to do with the brain and not with the heart.
All of this results in an affliction called aphasia. Aphasia means that you cannot call names to mind, particularly nouns. And in other cases, when the proper name does not come to mind, the stroke sufferer will make a substitution which he or she never intended. Perhaps some of you will recall an essay done three years back having to do with mail. On this occasion my wife, Miss Chicka, had gone to the post office to mail our tax returns to the Internal Revenue Service. When she entered the car, I asked her, “Did you mail the umbrella?” Obviously, umbrellas had nothing to do with the whole procedure but those word substitutions happen frequently. Even though I am 13 years down the line from my stroke, those word substitutions still plague me. Perhaps I should not use the word “plague,” because some of the substitutions have a degree of humor in them.
Recently one of the Carr daughters saw an advertisement for fancy cheesecakes produced on the West Coast. She had a collection sent to me. The cheesecakes, which were extraordinarily delicious, stuck in my mind as “camel’s hair” and were pronounced as such. Camels have very little to do with producing cheesecakes but unconsciously that is what I have said. It has become ingrained in my memory bank, so that when I ask for cheesecake, I have to repress the thought of saying “camel’s hair.”
The next item has to do with an exercise program wherein I ride my stationary bicycle, ordinarily for fifty minutes four days a week. In the 13 years since the stroke occurred, I have never been able to say the name “stationary” without thinking of a store in Summit, New Jersey owned by people named Siegel who sold stationery. In recent days, I have found that there is an urge to use the word “sanitary bicycle” instead of “stationary bicycle.” If there is a hidden meaning in all of these phrases, I would like to know about it. Now let’s go on to another one.
I am perhaps the world’s greatest consumer of scallions. In some circles, they are called green onions, which is what I called them until I moved to New Jersey. After the scallions are bought at the grocery store, they have to go through a process in which I personally cut the bottoms off and the tops and strip some of the coarse growth on the outside. In the last day or so, I asked Miss Chicka when I returned from the grocery to give me the cashews so that I could work. And if somebody can tell me the connection between cashews and scallions, I would be a very eager listener.
Then there is the case of drumsticks. They are a very small ice cream confection that had their start in the 1904 World’s Fair in St. Louis. When an ice cream seller discovered that he had no more cones, he asked a fellow concessionaire if he could wrap his ice cream in a waffle. And thus was born the idea of drumsticks. I eat more than my share of drumsticks because they are good but not necessarily because they are fun. The same with the camel’s hair. I do not usually use the substitute word for drumsticks. Rather I come up with something on the order of “that little ice cream cone.” And this morning, when I wanted to ask for milk chocolate, I called it MaryJane.
So there you have a sample of the golden years wherein aphasia may await you. Naturally I hope that such an ailment never comes your way. But if it does, laugh a little bit because aphasia will not necessarily kill you and it might give you a few laughs.
Now the second thing, aside from aphasia, in those golden years has to do with arthritis. Those of us who have wandered into territory unanticipated by the Bible in terms of age, are often afflicted with arthritis. It is a miserable condition and is relieved in my case by riding the stationary or sanitary bicycle. I have consulted some of the finest physicians who practice in the field of orthopedics and they are uniform in telling me that there is no shot or no pill that will cure arthritis or even relieve it.
On an allied subject, it may be that my problems with aphasia are spreading to my consultant, Miss Chicka, who in searching for the word orthopedics produced the word orthodontist. I did not know aphasia was a contagious disease, but obviously it is.
I am distressed to learn that so many teachers are leaving their profession before their time. I understand that they must do what is in their best interests. But here we are in these trying times trying to balance state budgets on the backs of school teachers. When we attack teachers, we are destroying future generations for the sake of salving the feelings of politicians such as Governor Walker of Wisconsin and Christie here in New Jersey. This is completely backwards. That is what the Republican governors seem intent upon doing. In the long run, we will all suffer from their attempts to use the teachers as scapegoats.
But in any case, teachers who are now retiring have my best wishes and my hopes that they will avoid aphasia and arthritis in their golden years. Aphasia and arthritis won’t kill you, but they will make life unpleasant when they appear.
E. E. CARR
March 6, 2011
Essay 537
~~
Kevin’s commentary: I wonder how much Miss Chicka charges for her consulting services, and how Pop affords them. Does he get a discount when she makes mistakes? These are important questions.
Oh, and drumsticks are freaking incredible. I had no idea Pop liked them but I am henceforth assuming that I am genetically predisposed to enjoy them. Maybe they’ll make a camel-hair-flavored version for him sometime soon.
Read more of Pop’s thoughts on Christie here and here, and read about the shooting one’s own feets essay here.