Speaking of not hearing things correctly, this afternoon I had the strangest conversation with my mother on the phone, to which I admit I was half-listening, until I started to put three letters together…
“So you know that guy that made some kind of drug in the 60s popular? What was his name?…ummm…something Leary?”
“Timothy Leary? Yeah, Mom, what about him?”
“Well, what was the name of that drug that he made popular?”
At this point, I didn’t know where the conversation was going to go.
Ummm. Okay, Mom, what exactly are you trying to say? Here are some of the loops into which my mind spun (yes, in just a matter of a few seconds):
I was born in June 1969.
Meaning I was conceived probably in September/October 1968…
…when Leary still would have been promoting his product, so to speak.
Could my conception have the result of an LSD trip?!? My strait-laced parents, could their past have been laced with something else?
Was she going to say next that I was the result of an LSD experiment gone terribly wrong?
Which my sister would say would explain a lot.
But this is what my mother actually said next:
“Ummm, okay, thanks?”
“I was doing a crosswords puzzle…”
“Why did you think I wanted to know?”
“Ummm. I don’t know.”
“Did you think I was going growing nostalgic for the old days?”
“Oh, no, I wasn’t thinking that. Really.”