Words fascinate me. One night I was flopping around in my bed like a Tennessee River catfish that was yanked out of the river and slung on the bank to become tangled in kudzu. Since I could not return to the land of Winken, Blinken and Nod, I began pondering sayings.
It was a real pain in the “dairy air.” We all know what the actual word is in this saying. And it was. However, I was caused to outline this column so some good came from it.
When I was honored to serve America in the Navy I had a friend in the Air Force named Bob Bass. Imagine, however, a school of fish swimming about in the lake. They were being kind and thoughtful to each other except one who was always out of line and causing trouble. He was a pain in the “bass.”
Most of the officers I served under in the Navy were good people. I learned quickly that there was the “right way,” the “wrong way” and the “Navy way.” Woe unto the sailor who did not know the difference.
Officers treated enlisted men with courtesy and respect. They were demanding and did not pull any punches with rules and regulations but if you did your part there were no problems. There was one officer who thought he was the greatest Naval officer since John Paul Jones; God’s gift to the Navy and was impossible to deal with. He was rude and demanding and unreasonable in his expectations. He was a real pain in the “brass.”
Some can recall the folk singing era of the 1960s. Folk singers sprang up in the land like weeds in the garden. One group was named “The Mommas and The Poppas.” The lead singer was terribly difficult to get along with and she became a real pain in the “Cass.”
Every teacher since forever has had this experience. There is a student who zigs when she is supposed to zag; she is up when she is supposed to be down; she talks when she is supposed to be quiet and won’t talk when she is supposed to talk. She is a real pain in the “class.”
I don’t like to mow the lawn any more. It takes time and it makes my eyes water and causes me to sneeze and cough. I have developed those allergies in my “Geezerhood.” It is a real pain in the “grass.”
A young priest in the Vatican felt insignificant. His role in religious sacraments was quite small. He began to embellish his role blurting out words, singing and flipping the pages too fast as the priest was reading. He became a real pain in the “Mass.”
I do not have enough space to discuss the uncouth Scottish girl who is a pain in the “lass,” the extremely ill-mannered adolescent who is a real pain in the “sass,” foods that are pains in the “gas” and the overly reckless NASCAR driver who is a pain in the “pass.” Perhaps another time.
Larry Vandeventer. Go to my two websites – Larryvandeventer.com and wjrambler1956.com – and purchase my books. I grew up North of Calvertville and graduated from Worthington High School and Indiana State. Contact me at Goosecrick@aol.com or 317-839-7656.