10 reasons why I know I was born a genius

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10 Reasons why I know I was born a genius:

1 At birth I was 11lb. 2oz. I had obviously made good use of my time in the womb.

2 Christmas morning: I was very small and the large kitchen table was backed up against the black-leaded range. Above it hung a row of socks stuffed with sweets and oranges; and the large kitchen table was smothered with presents. Everyone was very excited and busy working out what was for them, when someone, suddenly drew attention to me. We each had a decorative Santa as a present, but I was the only one who had worked out that it could be eaten.

3 Making my way along Causeway Street to school, (a very long street for a small boy), I suddenly found myself being attacked by a dog. Frightened, I turned to face it, and in an instant, I had an idea. I barked at it. And to this day I can still see the dog standing there flummoxed.

4 And a sure sign of genius was in a thought that I had while getting ready for bed: when it occurred to me that, instead of getting undressed, if I slept in my clothes, I would be ready for school in the morning. And I was impressed with myself for thinking of it, that was, until I met my mother the following - afternoon.

5 My capacity to think deeply, (and for myself), came to the fore when the teacher explaining what were known as "parts of speech", told us, that a noun was, "the name of a person, place, or thing", before going on to give examples of each. But I wasn't listening. Instead I was thinking about the implications of what we had just been told. If "a thing", could be a noun, (I thought), then everything, whatever it is, (because whatever it is, it is a thing), has to be a noun. So I just couldn't see the need for examples. And I was so busy checking with myself, that I never thought to talk to the teacher about it.

6 It was always a good time when our mother was baking scones. We liked to watch and taste the raw mix. As I watched, and knowing that money was scarce, I must, (in the deepest recesses of my consciousness,) have been moved by a desire to help, for it occurred to me that if after use, the bun papers were turned inside out they could be reused. As I remember it, my mother was impressed, but I am not sure that she was ever that hard up.

7 Now here is a true story as are all the others: Grandma was staying and sitting to the front of the house taking the sea air. In her old age she was blind, and I think I was there to keep her company. Just then Liam, (an older brother) tuned up at speed on our mother's bike. The way he arrived, parked it against the footpath, and ran up the steps into the house, was so impressive, that I thought I had to have a go. Looking at grandma, who clearly wasn't going anywhere, and who would have no idea what I was up to, I slipped down the steps reminding myself of the important principle involved in riding a bike: that you must keep peddling. Sitting on it I set off and sure enough, as I kept peddling the bike stayed upright as I travelled along the road and round the large empty car park at the end. Then dashing into the house, with great excitement I told my mother what I had done before dashing off to have another go. And as I went I could hear her voice fading in the distance: "Who told you...?" But not withstanding my unforeseen success, I had a terrible worry. would I still be able to ride the bike in the morning. Well next morning, and seizing an unguarded moment, I ran out of the house and up the yard, with Kevin, (another older brother,) in hot pursuit, as I was supposed to be getting ready for school. But dragging a smaller bike, I beat him to it through the backyard gate, and cycled off in triumph down the lane.

8 Travelling with a school friend on the Ulster Monarch, a boat that used to transport cattle and people between Belfast and Liverpool, I had a Swiss Roll that needed eating. Now for those of you who might not know, a Swill Roll was, (and probably still is), layers of sponge cake laced with jam and cream, and rolled logshape. But stuck in our cabin, the problem was, how to divide it up while keeping it looking like a Swiss Roll, or if you prefer, with the jam and cream intact. In an instant I had the solution, cutting it neatly through the middle with my comb. After which, I mused for a time, on the irredeemable state of its teeth.

9 Sometime between the age of 12 and 14, I developed an interest in science, and I must have seen myself as being at the forefront of scientific rigour. Washing out an ink bottle until all trace of its previous existence had gone, I stuffed if full or worms, and screwing back the top, kept it in my locker for three months, inspecting it from time to time. And what did I discover at the end of this experiment? - That I had an ink-bottle stuffed with worms.

10 Now one of the great things about growing up by the sea is, that the earth is full of interesting places on which to play, and, if you are that way inclined, pit yourself against your surroundings. One such place was Ramore Head, an impressive headland adjacent to the harbour. For sheer enjoyment I used to walk around its precarious rocky base, until I had an idea. Why walk all the way round, if you could climb to the top. So bare handed I climbed the rock face, not once but several times, until I ended up in trouble. Having reached an overhanging ledge I could neither climb over it, nor try as I might, make my way back down. All I could do was tuck myself in below the protruding rock, and I knew that I really was in trouble. For, between me and the end of everything, on the ledge where I was crouched, was just one slither of rock, against which I could rest my foot. Without it, I would almost certainly have weakened and fallen off. It was a moment in which I knew, that presence of mind was everything. Carefully I removed a sandal so that I could drop it should anyone pass below. And I was aware of a speck out in the water. A man in his boat, who, seeing my predicament managed to alert walkers both below and above the headland. And in what turned out to be a complex and courageous manoeuvre, involving people from above and people from below, I was hoisted off the ledge.- And, as often happens to geniuses: saved from myself.

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© Cormac McCloskey


Note: This blog, "On Its Way" was first published on Windows Live Spaces, by me, on 7th September 2008