Who am I, Why am I here?
These are the eternal questions asked by humanity since that day he stepped out of the sea looked around and said “Whoops, wrong turn!”
Of course it was too late by then, we had lungs and some of us were already sporting snazzy tans. Even so the question never left us and no matter how diverse we became the answer to that question just got further and further away from us.
Mrs. Made lunch tended to the kids and washed out fresh shorts for the morning.
First we had to evolve into something less slug-like, build a house and hunt down some food not easy when you consider that everything else was faster stronger, hungrier and more familiar with the locale than we were.
Some of us though were entirely against the ape concept; they said it made us sitting targets even if we could now hang out in the trees. However, despite this general feeling, most were comfortable with the shuffling gait and the stooped, slack jawed look. Indeed this is a look some have retained to this day, its tradition thing I think.
Useful though living in trees had become; there were still the confused among us that continued to quest for the ultimate knowledge of who and what we are. Small leafy shrines sprang up everywhere and ape’ish priests would stare into piles of feces mumbling that very question. The answer, of course, remained elusive.
Amazing what Mrs. Ape could do with a few Martha Stewart twigs and leaves.
Perhaps you can imagine, or remember, the howls of protest as the motivational apes took us to the next level. Stepping down from the trees walking erect and clubbing the heck out of each other with sticks and bones was not an obvious route to go but I think most of us had fun? Even so there were a few that did not enjoy the chaos and dark humour of those days. Large herds of despondent apes returned to the sea and, as they muttered something obscene, promptly drowned.
Now along with the who and the why we ask “What” have we become?
Confusion everywhere whatever next?
And, Mrs. Ape redecorated.
Much of what happened next, most of us still remember. I know I do. War, chaos, civilization, workers comp‚ Canada, beaver tails, Hockey and Beer…evolution.
Mrs. Ape drove the kids to school.
Then on those days that we gaze out the office window thinking back to those halcyon days in the trees, perhaps a little misty eyed, that awful question looms once again. Who am I? Why am I here? What have we become?
“George MacFlung!” screams your boss as he favours that old style slack jawed look. “Where is that report on Wispy Chipsy the talking snack! I told you it had to be on my desk by Then! I don’t know what’s gotten into you MacFlung you’ve become a Slacker!” In that one brief exchange all our questions are answered thus giving rise to the new concept; “Is this what it was all for?”
Mrs. Ape left a smiley face in the lunches that day.
(Please note that the notion that Mrs. Ape as the one at home is not born out of an assumption that the woman is the one always at home and the man is always at work. It is just a convenience born out of a desire to be lazy and not to write her/him or him/her or she/he or he/she. The blog entry has its point but is in no way intended to hark back to backward notions of female inequality. If so desired I would encourage readers to insert the masculine or feminine where ever He/She He/He or She/She would choose. Indeed one may go another step and include single parents of either gender, or perhaps those brought up by estranged aunts or wild animals. The slant is your choice, feel free to explore. Obviously I would prefer you see my point but that could just be my failure as a writer if you dont see it. I will try harder next time.)