My Head Start in Life

If you know any Experts, you might want to call them up and direct them to this message because I believe it to be of some importance and could, in fact, change the world in some wonderful ways. I have been thinking about this for a while and now I am sure of it.

Things have been upside down on our planet since people stopped standing on their heads. If you think I am wrong, tell me when the last time was that you saw somebody standing on his or her head. Better yet, when was the last time you did it?

When I was a kid a half century ago, we all spent a lot of time standing on our heads and I think we can agree that those were the good old days. If you walked through our kitchen/living room/rec room/TV room/family room in our farmhouse on any given day and at any given time, for example, you could expect to see me happily off in a corner standing on my head and sometimes I was joined by some of my brothers and sisters. If I was feeling adventurous, I would stand there freestyle with no support but if a bit lazy, I would rest my back and legs against a wall.

Not more than a few times I heard my father ask my mother, “Why is that boy always standing on his head?” I don’t know what her reply might have been but she usually defended me, so my art was safe from the negative reviewers.

However, when I was taken to get eyeglasses at the ripe old age of seven years, the doctor asked my parents if I had any unusual habits. They thought for a while and then reported the information that I stood on my head a lot. “Well, stop him from doing that,” the doctor commanded them. But by that time it was too late and I was hooked.

I think that’s where my lifetime habit of hiding my sins began. I still stood on my head but was a little less public about it. I can’t tell you what the attraction of head standing was but I do know I wasn’t alone. Boys especially, and even some girls, all around our little rural community, were spending a lot of time in their farmhouses with their feet straight up in the air in those days. The girls weren’t usually so enthusiastic about the practice as their dresses fell down around their faces. But maybe a head full of blood gave us a lift of some sort. I don’t know.

Much later, we relied on alcohol for that but head standing was cheaper and you broke few laws when you did it (except those imposed by those dreaded optometrists.)

Some dishonest kids thought they could cheat the system by standing on their hands but all the rewards were reserved for the purists, not the pretenders. I honestly believe that those poor souls who insisted on standing on their feet, a completely boring and safe orientation to the world, started their lives in the rat race later on a few laps behind.

I love my kids dearly but I feel a bit sorry for them. They have spent very little time on their heads during their lives so far and I think this will serve them ill as they venture forth to face the challenges of life.

Perhaps you did not know that the word “headstrong” was invented to describe a person who could support his weight for long periods of time using only the funny looking orb on his shoulders. I think we are on the wrong track when we tell our kids to go outside and play. We should be commanding them to experience a little upside down time.

It has been many years, alas, since I last stood on my head. I have avoided the practice as I cannot afford new glasses. Maybe I should summon up the courage to face the problem head on.

©2014 Jim Hagarty

Author: Jim Hagarty

I am a 72-year-old retired journalist, busy recovering from a lifelong career as an unretired journalist. This year marks a half century of my scratching out little fables about life. My interests include genealogy, humour and music. I live in a little blue shack in Canada and spend most of my time trying to stay out of trouble. I am not that good at it. I also spent years teaching journalism. Poor state of journalism today: My fault. I have a family I don't deserve, a dog that adores me, and two cars the junk yard refuses to accept. My prized possessions include my old guitar and a razor my Dad gave me when I was 14 and which I still use when I bother to shave. Oh, and my great-great-grandfather's blackthorn stick he brought from Ireland in the 1850s. I have only one opinion but it is a good one: People take too many showers.