By Trina Machacek
Have you ever heard of someone who was running with scissors getting hurt with said scissors? It’s of course not recommended to run with scissors. That is just common sense. I personally would not run with scissors. I will walk with scissors. How much danger could there be walking with scissors? Probably about as much danger as running with scissors. Just less of a chance.
Trina Machacek
Along with the admonishment of running with scissors, have you ever heard of anyone putting an eye out with a BB gun? I know a BB gun is a dangerous thing. But only if used in a manner that is not in line with any firearm. But. Yes, a carelessly aimed “but.” If you use a BB gun or scissors with care and correctly, they are no more dangerous than a rock along the side of the road. And that brings us to the paper part of the rock, scissors, paper trifecta.
The art of putting a pen to paper and writing a letter could actually be making a comeback. Not in a large way, in a way that gives me hope every time I go to pick up my mail. Over the years in talking with friends and family, when you look through your mail, if there is a hand written letter we seem to go for that first. There is the expectation that a “real” letter holds magic. Not like when you see a return address of maybe the IRS! Shivers just went up my spine—yours too?
That little expectation will make feet fly, you actually feel like you may be running with scissors. Dull scissors, but scissors. Why is that? Is it that as we go about life, things speed up, days pass, and life happens, that we often times find we are disconnected? That one letter, that ink of a pen that is set to paper brings some magic and a sense of life.
Here’s what really happened to bring this to a head of steam. At one time I was able to run. When I was younger than I am now. Now I walk. I am not in such a hurry anymore. However. Last week I got a letter in my mailbox. Which is an actual box mounted on a pipe along a country road that gets delivery three times a week by the nicest mail lady you could ever want. Our Miss Linda even takes the time to let me know if I get a package that is too large for the box and that she is setting it on top and I should go out and collect it before the wind delivers it to the neighbor. Yes, living rurally has such advantages. Moving on.
I got a letter, handwritten from a good friend and I scurried back to the house to rip it open. In my hurried actions my feet got there before the rest of me and I ended up on the floor. Unhurt and laughing. What if I had had scissors?! I would have been on the rural news line of friends and neighbors. Which of course made me laugh even more.
You would think that I would get up and continue to a soft chair, But! Nope I sat right there on the floor and read my mail. Every single piece. I started with the handwritten letter and finished with a second reading of that same letter. I don’t remember when the last time was that I read every piece of mail I got. I usually throw away the junk without a second glance. But that day I read every “buy me,” “invest NOW,” “get life insurance before it’s too late” advertisement.
Hang on, I am going to bring all this together.
Then it dawned on me. The post office says it is in trouble financially because nobody is mailing letters any longer. As I sat there in the center of a snowfall of junk mail, and it wasn’t even close to Christmas when the junk mail comes in bigger waves. How in the world can a business afford to send out all this junk mail, and the post office deliver it and they both still claim a shortfall of money. It is still a mystery to me.
Just like all the ole wives’ tales we are taught. They all seem to make sense. They all seem to be grounded in some far-off, long-ago truth. Someone at some time must have run with scissors, fell and, gulp, gotten hurt. Or is it just that we are told over and over again, to protect ourselves from—well ourselves.
It’s a conspiracy, isn’t it? Yes, don’t run with scissors and Elvis is still alive and living in Kansas.
Trina lives in Diamond Valley, North of Eureka, Nevada. She loves to hear from readers. Email her at itybytrina@yahoo.com
