Barack Obama and I have much in common. He’s the son of a
Kenyan farmer. I’m the son of an insurance salesman whose father
is a farmer. We both came from states that started with the
letter “I”. He comes from Illinois. I came from Iowa. He’s tall
and skinny. I’m tall and skinny. I work in TV. He’s on TV a lot.
He’s like the Bears. I like the Bears. Should I go on?
But here’s the coupe-de-grace. Like Barack, I was born with
adult ears at a very young age… birth to be exact. Oh yes, baby.
I feel his pain.
They used to call me taxicab in elementary school. My hair was
shorter than Barack’s when I was a kid. Yes, that IS possible. I
creamed it into place with a generous smattering of “butch wax”.
Loved that smell.
Still, it was the ears that separated me for the rest of the
neighborhood. Bobby Petersen used to grab them and pull me to
the ground screaming. Sherve Kittleson used to knick them with
his sheers every time I got a hair cut. And my baseball coach
used to take my ball cap and shove my ears up underneath the red
felt. He said I could run the bases twice as fast if I didn’t
have so much wind drag. And my dog, Lassie, just loved licking
them clean. Even the neighbor girls seemed to get the biggest
kick out of tweaking them when they could.
My cousin, Tommy Tucker had big ears, too. In fact, they were
much bigger than mine, or at least that’s the way I remember it.
His stuck out further from his head. Here’s the weird part I
used to make fun of him! Me! Dumbo himself.
I can still remember the Christmas when Tommy came to visit use
in Iowa from Texas where everything is big. Something was
different. My sister made the great discovery and blurted it out
at the diner table. “Tommy got his ears clipped,” she giggled as
she pointed to him turning 8 shades of red. Sure enough his ears
were smaller and closer to his head. My grand dad suggested to
me if I thought they looked that good he’d be happy to take me
out to his workshop and trim ‘em down just a touch.
Actually, my biggest phobia wasn’t my ears but my weight. Lord I
was skinny. Ethiopian skinny. That’s not a knock on you Barack.
You could not only count all my ribs but see where each tendon
and muscle fiber was attached. You know that Chinese display
with guys all dissected so you can see each blood vessel and
muscle and vein? That was me. Doc Owen never had to take my
pulse on those yearly scouting check ups because said he could
see right through to my heart.
Now back to Barack. I can’t say for sure that he is that
sensitive about his ears except that some reporter had a
microphone close to him and he told somebody it was very
important NOT to talk about his ears or make fun of them. So
goes the rumor mill, kids used to pick on him a lot for his
ears.
Now, Mr. Obama, here’s a word of advice. If you are running for
President make sure you don’t tell anyone NOT to make fun of
some feature of yours because that’s exactly what they will do.
Haven’t you seen the cartoons lately? They’ve got your ears
spread wider than the wings of a 747. You and the flying nun and
dumbo and me ear-reconcilably joined at… at the ear. Note to
self… it’s only going to get worse. Ignore it!
I think you should be proud of your ears. I am! They make a
statement. They are different. They enable you to hear
conversations others miss. In the hot summer they are
exceptionally efficient at dissipating heat. Folks with big ears
are less likely to suffer strokes than those with tiny orbs.
Your glasses, should you ever need them, will find a welcome
home on which to rest. Baseball caps, no matter how large, will
ever be able to slip down over your eyes. From behind you will
never be mistaken for Denzel Washington or Eddie Murphy or
Audrey Hepburn!
And here’s the best part. When you stand up in Springfield,
Illinois soon to make the biggest announcement of your life
before all of America… turn around. That old skinny Illinois
rail-splitter with the scraggly beard, protruding nose and chin
and yes, big old ears, will be listening intently from his
canvas on the wall. History, for big-eared folk like us, could
be about to repeat itself.
