We've all seen the Peanuts cartoon where Lucy volunteers to hold the football while Charlie Brown tries to kick the ball. Predictably, Lucy pulls the ball away every time, and Charlie Brown ends up flat on his back every time. A Google search tells me that the "football gag" appeared 28 times in the 50-year run of Peanuts, with Lucy outsmarting Charlie Brown each time: that's 28 AUGHs! and 28 WHOMPs. So predictable …
I made my weekly grocery shopping trip last weekend and when it was my turn to step up to the deli counter, the employee surprised me by telling me what I was going to order before I could open my mouth to place my order. "Polish Ham, am I right?" he didn't really ask as much as he declared. "Yes, you are right but how did you know?" I wondered out loud. "Dude, I've served you like a million times," he replied. I couldn't recall him ever slicing my pound of Polish ham, For as long as I've been buying Polish ham at my grocery store, there has been an alternating trio of Polish ham slicers, one of whom is a woman. This gentleman was not one of the two remaining Polish ham slicers.
Leaving the store, I repeatedly replayed the Polish ham scene in my head, trying to figure out if I was wrong (He seemed to know me: he did call me "dude" and he did say that he's sliced my Polish ham a "million times" ...so maybe he was right?) I searched the parking lot trying to
locate my car (predictably, I forgot where I had parked), I asked my son who had witnessed the Polish ham scene, " Am I really that predictable?" Unsurprisingly, he replied, "Yes, you are."
So, I guess I'm predictable. For what it's worth, I would prefer to be described as consistent or reliable.
Predictability does not mean that I have sealed myself off from all that is new; I would argue that there is a certain comfort in being predictable. Comfort for me and comfort for those who interact with me. There is a certain type of individual who when asked if it's raining will respond: my weather app tells me that the rain will start at 3:53. My Uncle Floyd, who lives in Detroit, hates the rain because his arthritis really flares up when it rains. Luckily Detroit only gets 32 inches of rain a year, so he's OK most days. Blah, blah, blah.
Ask me if it's raining, and you'll get a yes / no answer. Uncle Floyd's nephew and I are both predictable, but my predictability gives you time to find your umbrella.
My little family lived in France for four years, and we had a favorite little restaurant that we frequented at least once a week, sometimes more like two or three times per week. Pierre was our server and he really didn't need to take my order because I rarely departed from my favorite dish; Dominique and Thierry were the owners of the restaurant, and getting a table at their / incredibly popular, but very small, restaurant was challenging for some, but they always managed to find a table for us. I'm smiling as I write this, flooded with happy memories of our countless meals at this restaurant.
That smiling is deeply rooted in the notion of having found the right place, the right people, the right meal. My predictability extends beyond Polish ham and popular little restaurants in France ... music would be next on the Predictable-Paul McDowell-list. James Taylor and the Beatles would be at the top of that Predictable-Paul McDowell- list. But there's lots of room for show-tunes, classical music, folk, and bluegrass. Mix in a little jazz and you have a sense of the depth and breadth of the predictable music palate of Predictable-Paul McDowell.
Now if I could just figure out how that guy knew that I'd be asking for Polish ham.
Music: "Cheers" theme by Gary Portnoy; "Secret O'Life" by James Taylor
