Why is it so hard to listen to the little voices in your head? You know the ones that tell you things
that turn out to be true. Things that you should have listened to, but did not. Personally it scares me
when those voices start talking. I keep looking around to see who is there. There is some history in
my family where Little Voices have gotten out of hand and led a certain member of my family outside
of the normal realms of sanity. So when I hear the voices I am always wondering if I am headed
down that same path.
It would not be so bad if the little voices would announce themselves before sharing their infinite
wisdom. You know by some name that I would recognize like, "Don’t do That" or maybe, "I wouldn't
if I were you." But instead they appear with a voice so small so as to be inconsequential. Divulge the
information they were sent to give, and then as quickly disappear.
I am sure you all have gone to put some item down. As your fingers begin to release the item a little
voice says, "Maybe over there would be better." You ignore the little voice and 30 miles down the
road remember your wallet on top of the car. Now even before you stop the car you know the wallet
is gone! You call to the little voice and ask why it was not more persistent? I think some times it is
the fault of the little voices that you forget things. Especially when you try and argue with the voice.
……………."Look, 'I Wouldn't If I Were You', leave me alone. I know what I am doing! The drink will
be just fine there for a moment."
Or maybe……………."I am only going to lean the shotgun there against the truck while I clean the
quail 'Don't Do That'. I'll put it away when I am done."
It really bothers me when the voices start laughing as I realize the dark sticky substance running
down the back window of the truck is the drink I put up there awhile ago. And the scratches on the
gun and the side of the truck always bring a chuckle from somewhere deep inside the folds of my
brain. Had I not been arguing with the voices, maybe I would have remembered the items, but alas
that is not the case.
Why could they not be more like the High Commander. When she has something for me to do she
never just appears with a task and then disappears. She has learned that it takes months of nagging
to get the simplest of tasks accomplished. If she were to only quietly mention that the current state
of the garage was unpleasant looking and should be cleaned up, I would dismiss it as just another
annoying little voice, and go on watching that movie on TV. No, instead, she starts cleaning the
garage. Just the sound of her moving things around in the garage is enough to get me up off the
couch and into the cleaning mood. I know that the High Commanders thoughts on what is important
to be kept and what is little more than refuse, are strangely different than mine and if I want to having
anything left I better clean the garage myself.
The other day I again found myself with the great opportunity of being in charge of the welfare of
Kachewnik. Commonly called baby-sitting. Even though I am her father, I believe it is still
appropriate to call it baby-sitting. I am not sure what it should be called when the High Commander
is taking care of Kachewnik, but I know it is entirely something different than when I am doing the
watching.
When I am in charge I literally sit and watch the baby. A whole room that was here to fore, perfectly
clean, can in a moment of fatherly baby sitting, turn into a disaster area. Worse yet according to the
High Commander, I do not even notice anything is wrong. On the contrary, I notice the disaster and
hope the High Commander will be home soon. Lest the whole house is destroyed.
Another problem that has arisen is the changing of diapers. The High Commander can sense the
moment bodily fluids have met the absorbent material that makes up the diaper. Through the
superior use of smell and mental capacities fathers have but do not employ, she can thus have the
advanced knowledge to change the diaper in a timely manner. I on the other hand have to have a
more visual indication that the diaper needs changing. You know like, oh, the diaper dragging
around the knees of my daughter from the bodily effluent collected there.
This is not always a good indicator and can be missed by the baby sitting father, especially when the
sagging diaper coincides with the moment the elk on TV steps from behind the tree, as the hunter of
the week slowly draws back his bow. How can I be expected to take my eyes from the TV at a
moment like that? But when the child trips and falls from the restricted movement allowed by this
low slung diaper that does seem to help my awareness of the situation. Or as my daughter is fond of
doing, throwing the near capacity diaper in her fathers sleeping face is always a good attention
getter.
Had I been more receptive to the Little Voices including Kachewnik's, I would not have had to
endure looking for a turn around on an endless patch of freeway, or trying to clean the sticky soda
from my window with only a dry towel. Similarly, the gagging bouts I have after an attack by the
overfilled diaper could be avoided.
Not all Little Voices are endowed with the gift of kindness. Not all the Little Voices are looking out for
your welfare. There are those that have only evil pranks and personal gain on their minds. What,
you don't think a Little Voice could have personal gain on its mind? Of course it could! How many
times have you lost an item that you have carefully placed in a protective spot, only to never be able
to find it again? Was in not the Little Voice that reassured you that this spot was the perfect place?
That you could never forget where it was? I summit that it was the Little Voice that came back while
you were gone and took the item. I am not sure where the Little Voice hides the things that it takes
but I am sure that when I find this place I will be able to retire and live well the rest of my days. I am
also sure the when I find this place there will be many unmatched pairs of socks there, because I
think the Clothes Dryer and the Little Voice are in an evil allegiance with each other.
Here it is the dead of winter and I am looking out the window at the Daffodil's that are coming up in
the flower bed in front of my house. I had so many Christmas lights laying on and around this flower
bed that the Daffodil and Tulip bulbs were tricked into thinking it was spring and are now being
assaulted by a hard frost. The Little Voice that the bulbs listened to was obviously wrong and now
the beautiful spring garden I was hoping for will be little more than a sprinkle of color. Maybe I
should put the lights back out until the threat of frost has lessened? When this thought leaks from
the corner of my mouth the High Commander in something other than a little voice assures me that
that will not be necessary or acceptable. If I am so bored she says she can find something for me to
do. Luckily this Little Voice I understand and quickly retreat to the garage and commence to clean it.
Sitting here in the garage looking around for something to clean up, my eyes fall upon the torn
saddlebags from the elk hunt two years ago. That starts me to thinking about all the times that the
Little Voices have affected my life. Which horse trail to take is one that sticks in my mind. I had
competing Voices on that one.
'This Is The Perfect Place' assured me the trail was good.
'I Wouldn't Do That' warned me that something was not right.
'Don't Do That" maybe could have swayed the battle and saved me the trouble of having the terrible
horse wreck I did have, but instead kept quiet, tipping the balance towards 'This Is The Perfect
Place'.
I reposition the pieces of the saddlebag and think about sewing them together. Another strap and
some rope may be needed. Maybe I should just throw them away and buy a new saddlebag? No, I
will keep them to remind me of the great Little Voices battle I had in the wilderness of Wyoming.
Besides it is great fun watching friends trying to guess what the collection of materials once were.
Soon enough, the battle of the voices on a horseback hunt may again flow to the forefront. In Two
more days the decision at the Game and Fish Department will be made and my cohorts and I will
know that the time for planning can truly begin. I will have a little talk with the voices and try to come
to an understanding with them so that I will be better prepared the next time. Now though I need to
hurry and explain to the High Commander why I need to keep the huge tangled ball of fishing line
and rusty lures before she throws the precious keepsake away!
that turn out to be true. Things that you should have listened to, but did not. Personally it scares me
when those voices start talking. I keep looking around to see who is there. There is some history in
my family where Little Voices have gotten out of hand and led a certain member of my family outside
of the normal realms of sanity. So when I hear the voices I am always wondering if I am headed
down that same path.
It would not be so bad if the little voices would announce themselves before sharing their infinite
wisdom. You know by some name that I would recognize like, "Don’t do That" or maybe, "I wouldn't
if I were you." But instead they appear with a voice so small so as to be inconsequential. Divulge the
information they were sent to give, and then as quickly disappear.
I am sure you all have gone to put some item down. As your fingers begin to release the item a little
voice says, "Maybe over there would be better." You ignore the little voice and 30 miles down the
road remember your wallet on top of the car. Now even before you stop the car you know the wallet
is gone! You call to the little voice and ask why it was not more persistent? I think some times it is
the fault of the little voices that you forget things. Especially when you try and argue with the voice.
……………."Look, 'I Wouldn't If I Were You', leave me alone. I know what I am doing! The drink will
be just fine there for a moment."
Or maybe……………."I am only going to lean the shotgun there against the truck while I clean the
quail 'Don't Do That'. I'll put it away when I am done."
It really bothers me when the voices start laughing as I realize the dark sticky substance running
down the back window of the truck is the drink I put up there awhile ago. And the scratches on the
gun and the side of the truck always bring a chuckle from somewhere deep inside the folds of my
brain. Had I not been arguing with the voices, maybe I would have remembered the items, but alas
that is not the case.
Why could they not be more like the High Commander. When she has something for me to do she
never just appears with a task and then disappears. She has learned that it takes months of nagging
to get the simplest of tasks accomplished. If she were to only quietly mention that the current state
of the garage was unpleasant looking and should be cleaned up, I would dismiss it as just another
annoying little voice, and go on watching that movie on TV. No, instead, she starts cleaning the
garage. Just the sound of her moving things around in the garage is enough to get me up off the
couch and into the cleaning mood. I know that the High Commanders thoughts on what is important
to be kept and what is little more than refuse, are strangely different than mine and if I want to having
anything left I better clean the garage myself.
The other day I again found myself with the great opportunity of being in charge of the welfare of
Kachewnik. Commonly called baby-sitting. Even though I am her father, I believe it is still
appropriate to call it baby-sitting. I am not sure what it should be called when the High Commander
is taking care of Kachewnik, but I know it is entirely something different than when I am doing the
watching.
When I am in charge I literally sit and watch the baby. A whole room that was here to fore, perfectly
clean, can in a moment of fatherly baby sitting, turn into a disaster area. Worse yet according to the
High Commander, I do not even notice anything is wrong. On the contrary, I notice the disaster and
hope the High Commander will be home soon. Lest the whole house is destroyed.
Another problem that has arisen is the changing of diapers. The High Commander can sense the
moment bodily fluids have met the absorbent material that makes up the diaper. Through the
superior use of smell and mental capacities fathers have but do not employ, she can thus have the
advanced knowledge to change the diaper in a timely manner. I on the other hand have to have a
more visual indication that the diaper needs changing. You know like, oh, the diaper dragging
around the knees of my daughter from the bodily effluent collected there.
This is not always a good indicator and can be missed by the baby sitting father, especially when the
sagging diaper coincides with the moment the elk on TV steps from behind the tree, as the hunter of
the week slowly draws back his bow. How can I be expected to take my eyes from the TV at a
moment like that? But when the child trips and falls from the restricted movement allowed by this
low slung diaper that does seem to help my awareness of the situation. Or as my daughter is fond of
doing, throwing the near capacity diaper in her fathers sleeping face is always a good attention
getter.
Had I been more receptive to the Little Voices including Kachewnik's, I would not have had to
endure looking for a turn around on an endless patch of freeway, or trying to clean the sticky soda
from my window with only a dry towel. Similarly, the gagging bouts I have after an attack by the
overfilled diaper could be avoided.
Not all Little Voices are endowed with the gift of kindness. Not all the Little Voices are looking out for
your welfare. There are those that have only evil pranks and personal gain on their minds. What,
you don't think a Little Voice could have personal gain on its mind? Of course it could! How many
times have you lost an item that you have carefully placed in a protective spot, only to never be able
to find it again? Was in not the Little Voice that reassured you that this spot was the perfect place?
That you could never forget where it was? I summit that it was the Little Voice that came back while
you were gone and took the item. I am not sure where the Little Voice hides the things that it takes
but I am sure that when I find this place I will be able to retire and live well the rest of my days. I am
also sure the when I find this place there will be many unmatched pairs of socks there, because I
think the Clothes Dryer and the Little Voice are in an evil allegiance with each other.
Here it is the dead of winter and I am looking out the window at the Daffodil's that are coming up in
the flower bed in front of my house. I had so many Christmas lights laying on and around this flower
bed that the Daffodil and Tulip bulbs were tricked into thinking it was spring and are now being
assaulted by a hard frost. The Little Voice that the bulbs listened to was obviously wrong and now
the beautiful spring garden I was hoping for will be little more than a sprinkle of color. Maybe I
should put the lights back out until the threat of frost has lessened? When this thought leaks from
the corner of my mouth the High Commander in something other than a little voice assures me that
that will not be necessary or acceptable. If I am so bored she says she can find something for me to
do. Luckily this Little Voice I understand and quickly retreat to the garage and commence to clean it.
Sitting here in the garage looking around for something to clean up, my eyes fall upon the torn
saddlebags from the elk hunt two years ago. That starts me to thinking about all the times that the
Little Voices have affected my life. Which horse trail to take is one that sticks in my mind. I had
competing Voices on that one.
'This Is The Perfect Place' assured me the trail was good.
'I Wouldn't Do That' warned me that something was not right.
'Don't Do That" maybe could have swayed the battle and saved me the trouble of having the terrible
horse wreck I did have, but instead kept quiet, tipping the balance towards 'This Is The Perfect
Place'.
I reposition the pieces of the saddlebag and think about sewing them together. Another strap and
some rope may be needed. Maybe I should just throw them away and buy a new saddlebag? No, I
will keep them to remind me of the great Little Voices battle I had in the wilderness of Wyoming.
Besides it is great fun watching friends trying to guess what the collection of materials once were.
Soon enough, the battle of the voices on a horseback hunt may again flow to the forefront. In Two
more days the decision at the Game and Fish Department will be made and my cohorts and I will
know that the time for planning can truly begin. I will have a little talk with the voices and try to come
to an understanding with them so that I will be better prepared the next time. Now though I need to
hurry and explain to the High Commander why I need to keep the huge tangled ball of fishing line
and rusty lures before she throws the precious keepsake away!
 | |  | |  | |  |
| justkeepfishing.com |
Little Voices