In my family, there is one beloved relative who is known fondly as “Break O Man.” Break O Man has a heart of gold, but can be generously described as having a very difficult relationship with the physical universe. Things simply do not function in her grasp. Doors won’t open, cars won’t start, things fall apart.
I am known around my house as “Break O Man, Jr.” for the way in which I too cannot seem to track simple things like keys, cars, houses, directions. If it’s without a pulse, I’m in a relatively solid state of confusion over its workings.
B o M and our kind require “keepers.” Patient kind people who help us find things like grocery stores and gas stations and doctor’s offices. We credit the name B o M to this lovely New Yorker cartoon, without which we would have had to continue using the less loving name “the Breaker”
I dedicate this post to all of you Break O Mans out there (you know who you are)…