Strange how much of our lives is spent in confusion and ignorance.
I am not making a profound philosophical proposition. I am talking about matters more mundane – names of places, titles, the way things work etcetera.
For instance, I covered a meet recently at the swimming pool. Only it’s not technically a swimming pool, it’s the Kinsmen Aquatic Centre. Does anyone know why? I’m sure there’s a very dull answer.
As I left the centre, I quizzed myself about other places on my path back to the Leader. The Path of Puzzlement, I term it.
Next to me was the multi-purpose room where I heard a chamber of commerce member talk recently about Barrheadians and Barrheadites. Always wondered what we were called. Now I have two options.
Meanwhile, behind me the Agrena loomed like a colossus, daring me to question its name. Yet question I must in deference to overseas friends who often ask about the ‘g.’ Um, I think it’s to do with agriculture I say, then stop. Actually, you’re right, arena would probably have been sufficient.
Next we have Pembina Hills Regional Division No. 7. Quite a mouthful, isn’t it?
Sounds more like a police precinct than a school board. Assault on Pembina Hills No. 7, an action thriller starring Denzil Washington and Symyrozum-Watt …
Setting aside the name, I should describe my first experience of covering a PHRD meeting.
It was like entering a private club where people speak in code. Every other sentence seemed to contain an acronym or contraction, referring to a program or centre of learning.
A man called a Superintendent was talking glowingly about the Alberta Distance Learning Centre (ADLC), Alberta Initiative for School Improvement (AISI) and French Immersion Program, although I only discovered this later.
At the time I wondered whether an off-duty policeman was in fact rhapsodizing about the heavy metal group ACDC, but got his letters muddled and later found it simpler saying AC. And then he went on to extol the virtues of dunking French people in water.
It was strange sitting there, awash in ignorance, yet being expected to deliver a confident report. In that room, I was the least qualified for this task.
Anyway, back to the Path of Puzzlement.
Adjoining the PHRD offices is the county council, a place where a reeve runs meetings.
A reeve? To an Englishman, the title sounds like a quaint hangover from a long-gone age. Wasn’t there a Reeve’s Tale in Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales, written in the 14th century? Yes, there was. I have just Googled it.
Next curiosity is the library, sandwiched between two schools. An oddly appropriate location for a haven of learning. Yet what do book-loving seniors think as they navigate ice and exuberant schoolchildren to reach the hallowed portals?
Before turning towards the Leader, I glanced at Barrhead Composite High School and wrestled with a nagging question about their teams: Why the Gryphons not the more common Griffins?
I asked a teacher about the spelling and he shrugged.
“Don’t really know,” he replied.
I think the trick to life – and sanity – is not to keep questioning everything. Just accept it. Most of us don’t even know what is going on inside our bodies, let alone anywhere else.
Nevertheless, when I see a baby gaping in the wonder at the world I sometimes say to myself: you’re confused now? You just wait, little buddy.
You just wait.
