Dumb A- Wildcatter Kid

wild·cat·ter

noun

1. an oil prospector.

2. a person who promotes risky or unsound business ventures.

Mr. B often signs his suggestions "Dumb A- Wildcatter Kid." We can dissect it as we begin to dig into his story. First of all, he believes himself to be dumb. This is not the case. He's not dumb. But he's from a different generation than me. He rarely got any positive feedback growing up. He came from a hardscrabble existence in the oil fields of central and east Texas in the 1950's. His dad was of Scottish descent who doesn't seem the type to coddle. (But those are separate stories.)

The "A" is supposed to be "ass" but Mr. B finds that disrespectful in the printed word.

"Wildcatter", see above. I didn't know what that term meant until I looked it up years ago when I first got a glimpse of Mr. B's index cards. It's a strict "Americanism." I like the sound of it. And Mr. B kind-of encompasses both of those definitions in a way that you'll see soon enough. 

"Kid." I have to say that puzzles me. He's hardly a kid by the technical definition. But I think in a lot of ways, he's still a kid out in those oil fields. Rooting around in the dust, setting dynamite or whatever-the-hell terribly dangerous thing they had him do in those days. (Again, separate stories.) And maybe...he maintains a bit of his kid-like wonder in the world. Nothing wrong with that.

As far as the "suggestions" and "ideas" (most often inventions, movie plots and ideas on how to raise money for the city) he leaves around the library for us to find...I'm not sure what exactly his intention is. We can't actually "do" any of things he suggests 99.9% of the time. I like to think he just likes getting his voice out in the world...even if it's on this small scale. I don't know. I'm not sure. And I talk to him. A lot.

One final thing...this blog is not meant to be mean-spirited. Do I think Mr. B's elevator doesn't reach the top floor? Perhaps. That's not my place to say. What I can say is that I think there is a brilliant mind in there...that somehow got a little scrambled at some point. That's a big piece of the puzzle I'm still trying to figure out. 

I'm doing this because I find his suggestions interesting (and yes, often hilarious). I find his life interesting. I find him interesting. And I respect him even when I don't understand him or his choices sometimes. 

This is all real. And true.

These index cards and scraps of paper feel like a road map to me. Meet Mr. B.