“We’re going to need a bigger boat.” I’m reminded of that great moment and line marrying comedy and horror together in the movie Jaws, when Roy Scheider’s hero realizes he and is compatriots are up against a bigger challenge than they thought after seeing the shark up close.

With so many sharks swimming around and feeding freely these day, in my own warped little mind that line twists and turns a bit, when I think of all of the punishment I’d like to see meted out whenever some semblance of sanity returns to the world, if it ever does. Along those twists and turns I imagine taking all of these villains to the woodshed my mother always threatened me that my father was going to take me to when he got home on one of the many days I misbehaved.
What’s funny about that twist is we never had a woodshed. It didn’t matter. Any room or location would do when it came time to teach me a lesson. Yup. It was a different era and that kind of lesson wasn’t frowned on like it is now. We did have an a old out building down the hill in the woods. Until I and my neighbors burned it down playing with matches. Given that my father was the chief of the volunteer fire department you can imagine how the aftermath of that unfolded.
But to the point, we’ve essentially given matches and cans of gasoline to so many prepubescents and adolescents masquerading as adults in so many sectors of our lives and are watching the smoke rise out of the trees down the hill. If not the flames licking at our foundations.
I’m starting to get the sense that even with fresh outrages flaring up each day, with no help from those who seem to know better, that too many are becoming content to let things just burn out, hoping for some sort of regrowth under the ashes.
Call me old fashioned, or just call me old. But either way, most of the damage that’s being done in our political, social, and technological lives seems to be egged on by some who might have profited from a visit to that proverbial woodshed.
Enough trips to the woodshed with enough switches used to somehow flip a switch that changed behavior for enough of us in my generation to make the unconvertible stand out as those you wouldn’t welcome into your life.
Buy, hey. Feelings.
I don’t blame kids for misbehaving badly. I do blame adults. Especially adults who let other adults act out. Frankly, I don’t see a chance for any new undergrowth happening without that bigger woodshed and a line out the door waiting to enter.
(Image by ja-aljona on Shutterstock)
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