Perceptions

I am a man of average height. I stand about 5' 10".

(For my non-American readers, that translates to 14 stone.)

(No, stop composing those barbed comments. I know that "stone" is a measurement of weight. And anybody fluent enough to understand both of the measurements I've given is no doubt shaking his/her head and saying "Blimey, dude, you've got to grow another 4.68 centimetres or you're gonna die!", or something similarly quaint and metric. I thank you for the kind thoughts, but there's no need to worry. Any minor perusal of the archives here will show that I'm losing my mind at an alarmingly fast rate, and since I'm such a fathead, that means I'll be down to 1.3 choenikes in no time flat.)

(That's an ancient Greek measurement, by the way. You're liable to learn something new every time you visit here, and usually it'll be something you'll have no earthly use for later. As for me, as soon as I write this shit, it is out of my mind forever. Life isn't fair, no.)

So, as I was saying before I so rudely interrupted myself, I'm about 5' 10", which is sort of average for a guy. When I show you who I'm descended from, however, you'll see the circuitous route my genes had to take to arrive at their averageness.

For instance...


The extremely tall gentleman in the picture above is my Dad, approximately age 17. You can see how he towers over my grandmother and his sister and two brothers. I inherited those genes from him.

Now, in order to even things out and make me the entirely average fellow I am today, I inherited other genes from my Mom's side of the family. Here is a picture of my great grandfather, from his time in the army during World War I. He is the amazingly short fellow on the right.


I have no idea how he got into the army. I had always assumed there were minimum height requirements, until I saw this photo.

And, finally, here is a picture of me.


As I say, I'm about 5' 10". MY WIFE, standing next to me, is close to 5' 1" (but not too close.) She's wearing heels here, I believe. In any case, I am a product of the loins of the two men pictured above, Mr. Tall Guy and Mr. Shrimpy. My body decided to split the difference, thus making me ill-suited for both basketball and being a jockey, either of which could have afforded me a better income than I now receive, so thanks a lot, nature.

(Not that I'm totally complaining, mind you. I inherited the tools of my current trade - my vocal cords, and my brains - from both sides of my family, too. It's just that sticking a ball in a hole or whipping a horse would seem to be an easier route to fame and fortune.)

And now, let me tell you something about life. It all depends on how you look at it. You might already know this, but it never hurts to be reminded of it. For instance, all three men in the photos above - Me, My Dad, My Great Granddad - are approximately the same height. The only difference - the thing that makes us all appear vastly different - are the people we're with.

My Dad looks taller because he's with small children and his relatively short mother. The Christmas Tree in the background helps with the illusion.

My Great Granddad appears much shorter than he is because he is standing with his friend who was 6' 7". The uniform, with its oddly-shaped pants, adds to the effect.

As for me, I appear normal because I'm standing with MY WIFE. Any time I'm not in her general vicinity, I appear quite insane.

I guess the lesson is to remember that the people you're always around, and whom you come into contact with throughout life, will contribute to how the world perceives you, so you should choose your companions carefully. You're stuck with your family, so you'll just have to make the best of that. Of course, they have to make the best of you, too, so it all evens out.

Finally, here is a joke I received just this morning, even as I was finishing this piece. It comes from my buddy, Dan, and it perfectly illustrates the problem with skewed perceptions. Enjoy, and I'll see you on Monday with either good news or bad news concerning the Celtics.

A man is flying in a hot air balloon and realizes he is lost. He reduces height, and then spots a man down below.

He lowers the balloon further and shouts, "Excuse me, can you tell me where I am?"

The man below says, "Yes. You're in a hot air balloon, hovering 30 feet above this field."

"You must work in Information Technology" says the balloonist.

"I do" replies the man. "How did you know?"

"Well" says the balloonist, "Everything you have told me is technically correct, but it's no use to anyone."

The man below says, "You must work in business."

"I do" replies the balloonist, "but how did you know?"

"Well," says the man, "You don't know where you are, or where you're going, but you expect me to be able to help. You're in the same position you were before we met, but now it's my fault."