"They" say that curiosity killed the cat. "They" also say that a cat has nine lives. Other than the obvious query of, "Who the heck are 'they'?" I feel that the logic of this is generally agreeable. Add to that the simple fact that "they" say a mind is a terrible thing to waste. Obviously "they" have no idea whatsoever how to have a good time. However, after a morning of asking myself stupid questions, this "cat" is definitely down to eight lives.
The other day I was at Wadena City Hall checking my mail. In my discussions, I found that one of the gals was getting ready for the big Christmas party. Notice how we do still have the guts to call it what it is ... a Christmas party. Not a "Celebration of the Season of Not Such Warm Weather," or some garbage like that. She was gathering the gifts for years of service awards. It seems like you have to be employed 20 years to receive a slinky. I commented on the topic and was told it was public money and we had to be prudent. And, if I did not like the policy, I should come up with a better idea. This was a pretty good point, and good advice. I do plan on presenting a better policy.
But, what I really wanted was a City of Wadena coffee mug. I have pestered our city administrator for years about it. That day I asked how many times I had to be elected to get a mug. Apparently my argument was brilliant. Or, he had just had enough and was sick of hearing about it. He said, "Alright! You can have your stupid mug." He then led me down the hall to the storage room where they keep the coveted mugs.
As we entered the storage room, I was awestruck. I asked the obvious question, "Wow! Where did we get all the crap?" Yeah, yeah, there were documents, important items, files and stuff we needed. It just looked like my basement growing up. Apparently my parents are not the only ones who can't throw anything away. This, finally, brings me to my point.
As I looked in wide-eyed wonder, I saw an old movie reel. Not stacked away, mind you, but out in the open.
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"Hey, what is this?" I asked.
"Here's your mug. I have no idea."
No idea, I thought, that is just crazy talk. Why is it here? What is it? It must be important. It is just sitting here. Are there more? It must be some important meeting or documentation of historic proportions, right?
I could hardly contain myself. The label was a collection of numbers and letters. It was dated from the summer of 1970. I could hardly stand it. I had to watch it. I didn't even know the format of the film. I asked the only guy I knew who would know what to do, our planning and zoning director. I was right, he knew just what it was: an old 9 mm reel. Great, now how do I play it? He jumped up and took me to yet another storage room.He dug through and found an old projector. It was nicely labeled, "returned, un-repaired, parts exceed value." Prudent money-wise, but it was dated 1968.
Using my catlike reflexes, I called the high school. They still had a projector that worked. I scuttled over and picked it up. I raced back and set it up in the council chambers. Using all my powers of memory, I envisioned Mr. Halling loading a film. After several burn outs trying to get it rolling, victory, alas.
I gazed in wide wonder at the historical events about to be replayed. It counted down: 3 ... 2 ... 1...
There it was: sewer footage.
A great chain pulling a camera through damaged pipe. I actually watched all 20 minutes, hoping for more. Nope, just a bunch of "crappy" pipe. What a letdown. I had robbed myself on an entire morning. Not even the mug made it worth the while. "They" might be onto something.
