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Burton Cole

Sorry, I can only remember useless things

In all of my adult life, not once has any employer, relative or stranger asked, “Hey, what’s the 31st element on the periodic table?” They do want to know why I missed the meeting, lost my password or forgot to put on pants, but never has anyone cared about the periodic table or any of the then-106 elements cluttering up the thing. And yet, back in my school days in the 1970s, our chemistry teacher tested us on our memorization of the elements on that table. (There are now 118 elements blocked in on the periodic table. Apparently, a dozen elements lay forgotten in a corner. ...

A shed door and an apple tree a day keeps the multiverse away

That little fort in the apple tree took us kids on many adventures across the known — and unknown — galaxy. It wasn’t much of a fort, really. But then, it wasn’t much of an apple tree, either. With the help of Gordy, the big kid who lived across the road, we lugged a door that had fallen off one of the outbuildings on our farm, and wedged it into fingerlike limbs of the little apple tree. The door became a floor not quite three feet off the ground. It wasn’t a very scary climb that way. Our fort had no windows on account of us never getting around to building walls. We ...

Count on Cousin Dweezil to ask the tough (insane) questions

Cousin Dweezil sent me another one of her tidbits of what she considers wisdom: “I’ve found that if you tuck one part of your pants legs into your socks, people expect less of you.” OK, maybe that one is wise. But not all of the questionable quandaries, ponderances and quagmires that Dweezil chucks my way seem as well thought out. She once sent me this note: “Crazy people don’t know they’re crazy. I know I’m crazy, therefore, I’m not crazy. Isn’t that crazy?” Dweezil embraces the adage that misery loves company, and if you aren’t in a pickle, she’ll pinch ...

‘No fair! Your half is bigger than mine!’

The kid’s nose nearly dusted the brownie as he calculated to the millimeter where to place the plastic knife. His brother leaned in so closely to supervise that if he had been old enough to grow one, the brownie knife could have simultaneously trimmed his beard while dividing the brownie. This is what it’s like when Mom says you can have a treat as long as you share half with your sibling. No engineer has ever measured dimensions with the same precision as a sibling forced to go halfsies. As I watched the two boys divide the brownie, the years melted away like half a bowl of ice ...

Naked truth about that school dream

I awoke in a panic. I’d forgotten to feed the cat! For three weeks. Maybe four. Through the brain fog, I remembered opening a can of cat food. By now, it had to be an undulating mass of bugs that walked away on its own. I threw back the covers. The breeze made by the blankets must have scattered some of the brain fog, because suddenly, I remembered a key piece of data: I don’t have a cat. Nor do I have cat food, undulating or otherwise. I wiped sweat from my brow. No cat I have known would purr patiently and politely for four weeks. They’d be nipping at my nose and toes like ...

The day the micro waved goodbye after 18 years

My mouth watered for a supper of spaghetti and meatballs. Then tragedy struck. The microwave oven conked out. I was horrified. Terrified. Even a bit stupefied. What was I supposed to do now? Cook? Who even remembers the recipe for boiling water on a stove? I’d had the microwave for only 18 years. I have shirts older than that. Check photos from 20 years ago, maybe 30. Most of those shirts don’t fit anymore, but they aren’t on the fritz. Frayed and frazzled, maybe, but not fritzed. But find a photo of my kitchen from two decades ago and you’ll notice that microwave ovens ...