The Why of Jarrett

Not Your Average Dream

A Message from the Long Long Ago to Help Me Find My Way

Let’s talk about Brandy.

Or at least, let’s start with Brandy. This story is my attempt to weave together several narratives taking place in my life at this time, and I think Brandy is the best place to start.

To clarify, I’m not talking about the Brandy sittin’ up in her room and has the boy. For ease of discussion, I’ll call her “My Brandy”

It is my contention that we all, you all everybody, have a Brandy

My Brandy visited me in Happy Fun Sleepy Land.

She explained to me that she was the first person, other than family members, that I have a memory of knowing.

That is, My Brandy was my introduction to the type of person that didn’t wear swimming suits every day like my younger sister; brush her teeth EVERY NIGHT like my older sister (you were right, sis. Sorry for all the grief.) She “waushed” her hands like everyone else, while my mother bade that I “woosh” or even “worsh” my hands. And she probably never ate “smilin’ corn”.*

This would have been around second grade, so 1987 or 1988. It was my first year at Sunset Elementary in the painfully homogenous suburb of Edmond, OK.

I think it’s time for some fun facts about Edmond, OK. Mind you, dear reader, the facts in the table below are not from my time in that suburban metropolis. I will extrapolate my experience using current demographic data. I would argue that conditions were even less diverse 30+ years ago.

Walking down the street in Averagetown, ‘Murica, the average ‘Murican, would encounter, on average (out of ten encounters) –

- six average white people (maybe four average white people and two total fruitcake white people).

- An average of two Hispanics and/or Latinos.

- One, maybe two average African Americans.

- You might see an average Asian in the far distance (the average far distance).

- Spot a single person of two or more average races… in that or one of the next three or so groups of ten, on average.

- One average native Hawaiian or other average pacific islander if you have 50 encounters of ten people (that’s 1 in 500, on average)

- Lastly, using an average magical infrared sensor that doesn’t exist, you might see the average lingering footprints of an average Native American, or perhaps the average scent of a Native American’s aftershave or perfume will come wafting across your average nose…

I mention Native Americans last for three average reasons –

1. The average state of Oklahoma proudly brands itself “Native America”

2. As you can see in the above average charts…rather, the average charts above, Oklahoma has a Native American population over seven times the average national average. Edmond, however, drags down the average state’s average. Having almost five times fewer Native Americans.

In the previous scenario, walking the average streets of say…Ada or Norman, you’d see roughly one Native American for every ten average people. In Edmond, you’d have to traverse paths with 50 bands of unwavering light (Vonnegut’s term for the life-force beaming inside all of us, even the average folks). This fact makes #3 all the more poignant, because…

3. …My Brandy was Native American.

Living in an average Caucasoid stronghold where almost eight of every ten people were of average European average stock surely skewed my perception of the multicultural stew that is ‘Murica. My Brandy, with her copper skin and sun-bleached bourbon hair, was a pleasant, approachable average ambassador from a different (not so average) walk of life; one that I can’t say that I was particularly curious about at the time, but I felt the average distinction all the same.

A further average transgression against Edmond is the lack of languages. Have a look –

- That old knock — “what do you call a person who only speaks one language?”

- …

- “An (average) American”

- *rimshot*

Doesn’t apply to the (average) American as much as it used to.

I propose that the average response be changed to “an (aver…ok, that joke is getting tiresome) Edmondnite.”

That said, I’d point out that the statistic shows the proportion of the city’s population who speak another language at home. There could very well be a bustling community of Sindarin speakers (one of the languages Tolkien dreamed up for the elves).

I’m going to pause the narrative at this point to declare that I’ve nothing against Edmond. I’m grateful to have gestated in such a calm, nurturing environment. I’m pointing out that such enclaves are impotent crucibles of the status quo. I digress.

Reading Between the Lines

Allow me to artificially and abruptly (“arbrupticially”? Artifibruptially”? Hmmmm, they’re both a mouthful. I’ll think on it…) return to My Brandy.

The subtext of my visit with My Brandy was a critique of my recent writing content. Specifically, I’ve trumpeted “hack” and “charlatan” in several stories, notably –

A theme running throughout the above pieces is that writers in the how-to, “listicle” (I can’t stand that f’n term), and/or the self-improvement genre are only in it for views/reads/money.

I soon discovered that I too was in the narrow-minded pursuit of views/reads/money. I wasn’t writing for me…I was writing what I thought people wanted to read, that’s when My Brandy visited me and said unto me “go, ye beautiful man. Take up your pen that ye might record these events and compose a message of sincerity and escape hackdom.”

I blushed, then grabbed my favorite pen from my great grandfather’s old coffee mug on my nightstand and proceeded to document the whole affair.

To recap –

1. I had a dream

2. In the dream, I was visited by a schoolmate, Brandy from the long long ago.

3. To avoid mix-ups with more famous Brandies, I’ve christened her “My Brandy”

4. My Brandy reminded me about my charmed upbringing and bade that I document it.

5. My father lied to me and my sisters about corn

6. Edmond, OK lacks color.

7. My Brandy, a Native American, was a dash of color in that lackluster town in Central Oklahoma

8. My Brandy started me on an unconscious journey to discover how people can be different.

9. There may be a small, but noticeable clan of elvish speakers in Edmond, OK.

10. I may have created a new word. A cross between “artificially” and “abrupt”. Potential new terms — “Arbrupticially” or Artifibruptially” (I welcome your suggestions and/or comments)

11. I was veering off course, seeking only views/reads/money

12. My great grandfather’s coffee mug holds lots of writing utensils and the like.

^All table data retrieved and adapted from https://www.census.gov/quickfacts/fact/table/US,OK,edmondcityoklahoma/SBO040212#SBO040212

*My father had my sisters and me convinced that they served a special kind of corn that would make the consumer smile despite him/herself. My sisters and I had to prove that no mere vegetable had such control over our face portals. The result was three kids bursting with corn with grins from ear to ear