I captured this stunning morning cloud formation on the way to work. Clouds are the ultimate momentary work of art.
My wife’s mother loves Oprah. I had never watched Opra, but one afternoon I passed through the living room and caught a doctor on the show talking about poop. I stopped because it’s not everyday a doctor is on TV talking about the optimum poop. “A good, healthy poop is shaped like an S,” he explained. This caught everyone off guard, including me . . . and Oprah. The camera went straight to TV Queen who had a surprised look on her face, and two things happened: First, I and 20 million other people looking at Oprah were imagining her taking a poop. I think she realized this. Her look said, “The camera is on me. My God, 20 million people are imagining me sitting on a toilet – pushing.” Second, I was suddenly relating my poop to the alphabet.
The doctor was a real pro and was completely relaxed with this whole discussion. “You should check your poop everyday,” he said. “And if you admit it, most all of us do check it.” The camera went back to Oprah and this time she looked really stunned and confused. And 20 million people were imagining Oprah, skirt up around her waist, posed in a half turn looking down at her droppings. It was not a pretty picture. Oprah realized all this. She really didn’t have to put her make up on that day because 20 million people were not thinking about her face. The doctor was right, of course. I turn and look at mine each time. After all, it belonged to me and now it’s gone. One has to say good-bye. “Your poop really is an excellent indicator of your health and your digestive system,” the doctor explained, and he started talking about good diets. I left the room. Daytime TV had come down to this? Twenty million people suddenly striving for the perfect poop? (Hmm. Great title for a novel. “And as the sun rose, little Peter took off on foot across the country in quest of The Perfect Poop. He would leave no commode uninspected as he tirelessly sought a shit shaped like an S.”) As I walked the sunny streets of Coronado , looking at the huge eucalyptus and palm trees, I couldn’t get the damned image out of my mind. An S. How in hell do you create an S? And yet that’s what the doctor called for. Over the course of the next few days, I did what 20 million other Americans –mostly women—did. I looked. When you have mild diarrhea, you don’t have a prayer. A couple days later, I thought I was back to normal, but what I saw looked like periods trying to form a message in Morse code. I continued trying until one day I thought I had it. It just felt right. I looked down and my heart sank. It broke in half! Silly as it sounds, I was disappointed. I was so close. It was obvious that I had some consistency issues. The doctor said it had to be flexible like silly putty (I don’t know if he actually said silly putty but in my mind it has to be like silly putty or really well-leavened clay). I made up my mind to look at the positive side. This was a learning experience. It was a period of some pretty neat insights. I found you cannot poop an S when you eat chili, which leaves pretty much as it entered. Sweet corn is murder on a good S. Beer is also a total alphabet killer. Okay. I accepted the fact that this was a very difficult challenge, one you have to strive for incrementally, so I decided to work my way gradually up to the S. I would practice an I—a capital I without the serifs. Serifs are only for those highly skilled in the art of pooping. Then maybe I’d go for an L. That didn’t seem out of the question. Then a J, either a capital or a small j. But if it was the small j I wouldn’t even try for the dot above it. It’s probably possible but, personally, I think it’s asking too much. Time passed and I was getting nowhere. In near despair I reached out to the Big Guy. “Lord, I’m just a visitor on this small island., I have been given the challenge to create a fecal S. Give me the strength and perseverance to see this one through.” Surprisingly, I got a message back: “I saw the same show. I’m working on it, too.” This answered a question I’d had for years: there is a celestial throne. Finally, after many, many workouts, I did it! I pooped an S. It wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t bad for an amateur. I stared at it for probably too long. I had to burn it into my memory because I knew that taking a picture of it was carrying it too far. I was damn proud. This S meant that I was eating correctly, exercising, and had the right mental attitude. Time stopped as I stood there. I had attained a Zen moment. Life was beautiful. Then, I don’t know how long it took, but the moment was over. My fusion with Heaven ended. In real time, in real life, I had to act. I proceeded to perform what was one of the hardest tasks in my life. I reached over, pushed the lever. . .and flushed it down. For a moment I felt very alone. I pulled myself back together. Put it in perspective. It was just a bunch of shit. There will be all the days of my life to try to form another. It’s a commendable goal. Maybe it’s not one you share with a lot of people, but a goal just the same. I did tell my wife. “Leigh, I pooped an S today. It was, I don’t know, incredible.” She looked as puzzled as Oprah. “You what?” “Pooped an S. I’ve been working on it for a long time.” I realized that I hadn’t discussed my project with her. “You . . . I don’t believe. . . .I don’t want to hear this!” “You should have seen it--“ “My God! Stop!” “I’d say it was a medium size S--” “No!” “But I’ve been working at it so long and –“ “You’ve been working on--” she stumbled for the words – “pooping an S?” This was obviously distasteful to her, and totally foreign. Of course, she hadn’t seen the doctor who told 20 million of us that this should be a goal in our lives. The conversation ended and I knew it would probably never come up again. When you attain something you’ve dreamed of – running the minute mile, writing the great American novel, creating the world’s most popular Doggie Web Site, you have to share the glory. I had to tell somebody. So I emailed Oprah. “Hi Oprah. I saw your show on pooping an S and it changed my life. I worked on it for weeks and today I succeeded. I just wanted to let you know.” I haven’t heard back from her, but if she read my news, I know she shares my joy. I wonder how she made out.
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