A barometer is a device used to measure air pressure. Weather-type folks, and folks that want to be weather-type folks, use this information as a means of guessing what the weather will be for the next couple of days. It is a guesstimation improvement device.

Jimmy is a better barometer, of sorts. He isn’t very good at helping to predict when things will get better. He’s more of a bad-to-worse type of prognosticator. He can — and does — predict short-term weather conditions by complaining about his aches, pains and uncooperative body parts. This, he does on a regular basis. People, who pay close attention to such things, have started to monitor the frequency, volume and body part repugnancy level to determine just how bad things are going to get.

Long-term weather guestimating is based on a completely different form of Jimmy-monitoring. He toils in the construction industry and always seems to be assigned to the most challenging of jobs; jobs that only he and his particular skill sets can complete. No one can do the job as well as Jimmy and that is why he gets all the jobs that no one else wants.

At least, that’s the way it gets explained.

Last fall, he lamented in a voice that would make Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh proud, “They got me working on the shores of Lake Michigan. It’s gonna’ be the worst winter on record.” This was not a “might be the worst”, or “could be pretty bad”, or even a “not gonna’ be pleasant” type of prediction. This was an out-and-out “gonna’ be the worst ever” level of sky dump weather.

Jimmy challenges anyone to prove him wrong. Now that the winter has shrunk to bitter memories, he knows exactly how many body parts he froze, out there, in the wind tossed frozen tundra that is the shore of Lake Michigan in the winter.

Don’t try to change his mind with facts and statistics.

“It was the damblasted coldest winter in the history of mankind and I tol’ you it would be. Didn’t I?”

It’s not enough for Jimmy to have been pretty much right — he’s going for absolutely, unequivocally right. You don’t have to agree, but you might as well.

As a scientific instrument for measurement of negative change, Jimmy has no equal. As a scientific instrument for communicating with unknown voices, he was well on his way to achieving commitment level. Jimmy heard voices.

Age did what age does, and Jimmy’s hearing got a little weak in one ear. In the other ear, it disappeared completely, only to reappear on his never ending and rapidly expanding list of complaints.

As a means of finding something new to complain about, Jimmy was fitted with a hearing aid. This miracle device enhance Jimmy’s complaint level by making street noises unbearably loud, inadvertently tapping into the most boring of phone conversations, and connecting to what can only be explained as alien space communication.

Jimmy was certain he was being reached out to in some cosmic way. To some of the folks that monitor such things, this could only be the precursor to Armageddon.

The enhanced street cacophony made Jimmy grimace, the tedium of eavesdropping on boring phone conversation generated a deepening scowl, and the voices from deep space brought on the look of bewilderment that is usually reserved for a recently tipped cow. Fortunately, his ear doctor was a better psychologist than audiologist. Rather than have Jimmy committed for hearing voices, he decided to try changing the hearing device. This softened the street noises, disconnected the over-the-air party line, and eliminated most of the unwanted voices from astrological aliens.

The voices are gone, but Jimmy’s face still shows grimaces, scowls, and bovine bewilderment.

 

Larry Wilson is a mostly lifelong resident of Niles. His optimistic “glass full to overflowing” view of life shapes his writing. His essays stem from experiences, compilations and recollections from friends and family. Wilson touts himself as “a dubiously licensed teller of tall tales, sworn to uphold the precept of ‘It’s my story; that’s the way I’m telling it.’” He can be reached at wflw@hotmail.com.