My Name is Nobody

February 3, 2008
My name is Nobody, sounds odd, but it’s true. Often mistaken as somebody, I need a tissue, all that aside the name’s still “Nobody”.
Lot’s of people dispute my real name, “you really are somebody” is spoken with glee. But that never changes my name don’t you see! With smiles, back pats and compliments few, you all try and convince me my name’s just not true. The harder you try and make me somebody the more I am sure my name is Nobody.
I have tried many years to be somebody you’d see, mostly by exploit and excess or something unusual. It’s tough to explain let me give you a visual. All along you may be thinking “Sounds so familiar have I heard this before?” Perhaps you have heard it down deep in your soul. A voice so familiar, somebody you know, saying so softly “my name is Nobody, can’t you see it’s all true”
So much strain, so much thought, so much time, spent persuading. Nobody’s the name and nothing’s my game. I’ve done nothing that’s something, my talents are few, I’m always reaching for something that’s new. Ask me I’ve tried it and maybe that’s why, even this story is not very fly.
My dream is to do something, what it is I’m not sure, but when it arrives it will be something pure. Something of record, done by Nobody, a really great deed, to fill a great need. Maybe a plaque they will mount where it occurred, but what they will write seems so obscure. “Nobody did it” right here it is sure. We really wish somebody’s name could we write, but nobody did it and he’s nowhere in sight.
Nobody sees nothin’ real great that’s his mood, unless somebody did it then it’s all good.
Everyone knows, nobody’s no good. Somebody is better, (did you get the post letter?) With a name like Nobody I’m always around. I owe myself somebody but he’s never found. Sometimes when dreaming, my thoughts are all teeming- I am a somebody, the scriptures are true. Then may I ask you, why am I so blue?

My name is nobody. You thought I somebody, you must be mistaken I’m sure.

I Heard the Queen’s Call

I heard the Queen’s call. She called for my help. A new jewel she needed so life would complete. I heard her call and then soon forgot, it’s not that I cared not. It’s just so darn busy, here in the realm. Carpets and dies, the word to be sown, there’s this call and that and the list will wind on. Loved ones to call and still my Queen reigns, a new jewel she needs to continue her reign.

I heard the first buzzer it’s 7am. A couple more snoozes and on to the jewel, the Queens not demanding nor did she ask. But I really desire her life first-class. Her day starts to wind up and the jewel’s still not won. Out of the sack in a flash, into the pool with a splash, it's off to the mountain in search of the jewel. I start up the steed it's Chrysler and Dodge not Donder and Blitzen dash away! dash away! dash away all!"

Through the streets do I go past gulls with shrill cry. Yukon and Escalade spill forth their spry young. Smaller and smaller the Corollas are there, spilling forth young with the shriek of their birth. The higher I climb the thicker they get, together they go to one place it's quite clear, the Middle school cave where only the bravest dare go. I feel I have accomplished the greatest of tests. My trek through five hundred Junior High kids.

Up the mountain I go with it’s peak in my sight, The Home Depot I see in all it’s glory and might. With soldiers around seeking a mission. I nod to one then the other I’m on my own mission. A parking stall is near by divine intercession.

Into the Depot with all it’s selections, other times the distractions, so many I see. “Give me one of each” my soul does it’s cry, "in your dreams" my stoic mind says. On to the tool section, I’ve been here before. The place of the measure, devices and still yet the more. The jewel that I seek is the ancient of tools. "One more tape measure" I hear the Queen cry. My reign isn’t well without two or three more. Seven ninety five the clerk does her cry, credit or debit, is all that’s obliged and this jewel will be yours. With precision and instinct the Visa goes in, the jewel’s in the sack! Now i'm headed back.

Chrysler and Dodge dash away! dash away! dash away all! On to my Queen oh how she will gleam, this jewel’s a real treasure my Queen will adore. And if this ones lost, I know where there’s more.

Back down the mountain no gulls are in sight. Middle school has swallowed them up once more. The trip’s uneventful, and not a real chore. The Queen is in sight and me she’ll adore. With pride I display the jewel that I’ve won and I even surprise her with another shiny new one. You’re my hero she cries and I swell with real pride looking forward to my next valiant ride.

Yippee

Yippeee!

The first follower to this blog is my baby girl Christal. Thanks Christal for making dad feel good. See her picture on the right.(in followers)She really is 25 years old even though I call her my baby girl. Ain't she pretty. That picture was taken on our first family vacation. See pics here http://www.mymathesonfamily.com/

The Forwarders

In a place that must be far far away … since I’ve never been able to find it on any map or even the internet. There must dwell a people of a very strange tongue.
Well I am not really sure they really are people, since I have never actually seen them. Back to my story. ...

In a land far away dwells a people, that send me communiqués of seemingly great consequence. Always by email, never a call or even snail mail. So great is their love for me that never a day is missed that I don’t get one or two. Sometimes it’s twelve or twenty.

Cute little snippets of Hillary or Bill, some are real funny but often a bore. Addressed to me as if my initials were Fw and not MM. Forwarded to me with nothing to do, just church and a business and grandkids a few.

Fw:FW:Fw is hard to pronounce so their name goes unsaid, no signature made. Fw:FW:Fw must be who they are and who they seek. Fw:FW:Fw followed by my correct email and a dozen more so.

Fw: finds FW: and now really fast. Inboxes fill up and I’m really aghast Fw:FW:Fw becomes Fw:FW:Fw:Fw:Fw:Fw:Fw:Fw:Fw… now really fast. As Fw finds Fw and delights in their find and sends it to others they think will not mind.

They must not speak English or even some Yiddish. How do I know? you say with a sneer…
I’ve never received a reply never so near. I’ve sent greetings and love and compliments few. But I’ve received not even a word or two new. They send me pictures and print and power point shows, videos, links and some really low blows.

I would love some real words, of the life they do lead. Maybe even the prayer that they need. Tell me how Elmo or Sally is doing. About your new job or even Uncle Bob. As I starve for your words, I hear that little pop it tells me an email has come near. I look to my inbox with deep anticipation. Is this the day? I’ll hear from that land so far away? Nevertheless it is from Fw to Fw:FW:Fw and they just knew I needed this news. Barack is really a Muslim or McCain a warmonger. I reach for the button my finger still sore, I strike the delete key just this once more.

Who are these people that only send something that they were first given and pass it along ? How lucky I am!
In the land that they live the language is odd. It only goes out without even a nod.

It’d be really nice to hear back from the Fw:FW:Fw:Fw:Fw:Fw:Fw:Fw:Fw…’s but with names so in common using only two letters. It might be real hard to tell them apart.
Again how do you speak and what do you say to people whose correspondence is only one way?
Where do they live and what do they do? This really strange people with short little names.
I hope none are offended, you are all really dear, but rather than FW your words I hold dear.