Patience? Is it worth it?

There's an old saying, "You can't teach an old dog new tricks." I really found that out this past week. The hard way. Well, maybe that isn't completely true. I did learn a little bit from my lesson in patience. Yep, that's right, not patients, but patience. With a capital "P."

Those who know me know I'm one of the most impatient persons in the entire Eagle Observer territory -- probably in Benton County, and perhaps in the adjoining out-of-state Delaware and McDonald counties. I kid you not. It's always been that way, even when I was about 6 or 7 years old. It was at that time it was decided I should learn to play the piano. Arrangements were made with an elderly lady ... she may have been 30 ... no, actually she was quite elderly. And she was giving lessons to several of the boys and girls in the neighborhood.

That was in the grand old days when kids were able to walk a few blocks or even a mile from their homes by themselves. Yep, them wuz the good old days. I remember that sunny afternoon I made my way along a couple of blocks to the home of the old lady. Please scratch that word "old." I can relate ... never mind ... let's get on with the story.

The sweet lady sat me down on a stool in front of the piano and proceeded to give me some instructions in ... heavenly days ... I had no idea what she was talking about. I really don't remember what else happened, but I do remember I came to learn to play the piano and here she was telling me a bunch of gobbley-gook. I remember very well, I stretched out my full length forward toward the keyboard and began to show my stuff. Confusion reigned/rained a few minutes until she gained control and we proceeded through the half-hour lesson. I left and walked home. The question was, "How did it go?" or something like that. I proceeded to fill in all the blank spots of that thirty-minute encounter of confusion.

I learned, after the word came, that the nice lady didn't recommend that I take any more lessons -- at least for the time being. I think the word "patience" was used. I never learned whether it was that I wasn't patient enough to begin that patience-required skill to learn doo ... rae ... mee ... fas ... or if the other kids learned to play with patience, or if her patience with kids prevailed. End of story. End of lessons/lesson. I went back to playing with a bow and arrow in our pumpkin patch. But that is another story. Don't hold your breath. Just use your patient imagination.

It was several years later in school at Sulphur Springs, where I grew up, that another lesson in patience interrupted my schedule. Our principal decided we needed to have a band and it was arranged for a man to give us lessons. He gave us a chance to pick our own instruments. The memory of that piano episode was still deep in me, so I picked an instrument that didn't involve any fingers pushing those things on horns or that sliding weapon on a trombone. Yep, that's right. I picked ... the roll, please ... a drum. Not a snare and certainly not a bass. It was called a parade drum.

I can't remember how many times we all got together for lessons, but I do remember marching around the house pounding on that drum. I was going to be the best drummer of the band. Honestly, since I was the only drummer, that still was a possibility. But anyway ... a few weeks later it was all over. Perhaps the parents all got together to call it to a halt. Or, maybe, the fellow who waved that magic wand just lost his patience/patients. End of story. I have no idea what happened to that drum. It just disappeared.

Now on to brighter things: The Academy Awards program on the tube several weeks ago. I watched it -- not really. It had been several years since I had gagged my way through the entire program. But reports of how it had been produced and politically presented convinced me I needed to get up to date and show a little patience. I watched it. Well, not really. I suffered through about 20 minutes. Then I went to put a package of popcorn in the microwave, returned and turned to the weather channel. Does that surprise you? Nope? I turned to a channel that runs old (there's that word again) programs like Gomer Pyle or Perry Mason or Twilight Zone. Oh, those good old programs. Nice crunching. Pleasant viewing. Then it was time to hit the hay without seeing those self-ego performances by too many of the winners who have all the answers to solve our nation's problems. The next day, I saw a few clips and read a few quotes from that program which starred our nation's experts. 'Nuff said.

Another experience with the tube occurred last week. By the time this is read, at least another session of the new "American Idol" will have been aired. I remember during the early days of the original Idol program, I joined hundreds of people in this area who watched as Gravette's own Patrick Hall appeared from a broadcast in California. A watch party was arranged locally and everyone was rooting for the local boy to make it big time. Patrick's solo was very good. But it wasn't to be. I've always thought that if Patrick had been allowed to sit at the piano and accompany himself as he sang, the outcome would have been very positive.

In later years, that type performance was allowed. And now? Now? ... It's hard to believe what is being broadcast of wanna-be idols. And the judges? That's another story. 'Nuff said. But I gotta say it: The only thing worse than the contestants are the judges. I do apologize to the contestants, but those judges! The current program just doesn't cut it.

An update: Received one answer to the question of how many miles I've walked to the weather station during the 40 years I've been reading the highs, lows and precips every day. I plan to discuss that later. Don't hold your breath. Just be patient by taking a daily dose of our new spring weather that is so enjoyable in our Ozark land. Isn't it amazing how those long, dark, chilly days fade away and the patience we've shown is rewarded with daffodils, dogwood blossoms and lush green lawns that ... yep, mowing and digging out dandelions and ... ah well, just be patient. Hot, sometimes dry, summer days will slow down the mowing and a beautiful fall display is right around the corner. Patience? It's always worth it!

Dodie Evans is the former owner and longtime editor of the Gravette News Herald. Opinions expressed are those of the author.