quietlyradical

“There’s lotsa ways to skin a cat!”

I have no doubt that members of PETA, the SPCA, as well as amateur animal lovers everywhere are fighting waves of nausea as a result of the graphically unpleasant word pictures evoked by that simple sentence.  However, before writing me off as a narrow minded “hater” of those of the feline persuasion as well as their human advocates, please allow me to elaborate.

My dad, an unapologetic “country boy”, originally from the one-stoplight metropolis known as Martin, Tennessee loved to use that colorful expression.  When I was a kid, I was mortified, not only by the words themselves, but also by the invariably “Rube Goldberg-esque” improvisations to everyday objects made by my father, which usually preceded his proud pronouncement.  Rather than call a repairman or, heaven forbid, throw something away, Dad was never shy in the area of DIY fix-it methods which often involved innovative uses for duct tape, vice grips, and string.  I once saw my dad, a non-smoker, borrow one cigarette from my grandfather and touch the lighted end of it to a large tick on our German Shepherd rather than spring for an expensive can of flea and tick powder recommended by the vet.  (Miraculously, the tick released its grip after the cigarette was applied, and the dog didn’t even blink!)

Dad grew up as a poor boy, having lost his own father in a still unsolved robbery and murder which occurred when Dad was just eight years old.  The family suffered further financial setbacks initiated by a gambling-addicted stepfather and the death of my paternal grandmother from ovarian cancer when Dad was just 17.  With this backstory, Dad became accustomed to “making do”, and finding a way to persevere despite limited resources and a “series of unfortunate events.”

“There’s lotsa ways to skin a cat” translates roughly as, “There are many ways to overcome adversity” and “There are various paths to accomplishing a goal.”  Now, as an adult, I find that this particular “Dad-ism”, embarrassing as it was early on, turned out to be the best piece of advice that Dad ever (albeit probably inadvertently) ever gave me.  

In a previous post I confessed a guilty pleasure of passing idle “moments” (aka “hours”) playing a PC game known as The Sims.  Recently, with my main desktop computer in the repair shop as the result of a Windows 10 upgrade gone awry, I found myself playing a “glitch-y” version of The Sims 2 on a temperamental old laptop.  Whether the problem stemmed from the game software or the laptop, greatly annoyed at having been rudely awakened from its dust-covered hibernation, I do not know.  However, the results were “interesting” to put it mildly.  The game appeared to have developed a couple of odd quirks, which, not unlike the challenges often encountered in real life, were simultaneously tragic and laughable.

In one of my Sims 2 households I found that their toddler had somehow gotten stuck in his highchair.  Countless failed attempts at removing the child from the murderous chair were to no avail.  Eventually, the pitiful baby became so distressed and frustrated by lack of sleep and social interaction, I began to fear that the Grim Reaper would soon make an unwelcome appearance at the family’s door.  For those of you unfamiliar with The Sims, I am not making a figurative reference here.  The appearance of an actual Grim Reaper, in full skeletonized hands, black hooded robe, and scythe regalia is the not so subtle way in which Sims transition to the virtual afterlife.

I had learned long ago that exiting the game without saving is a clever way to escape unwanted consequences, but for some reason this method did nothing to free the toddler from the clutches of the dreaded highchair.  On the verge of giving up I remembered that when a Sims family moves to a new home, their furniture does not accompany them.  So, before re-entering the game, I decided to relocate the family to new digs and “Voila!”  There was the toddler, no longer attached to the homicidal highchair, happy and healthy once again – cat skinning method #1!

Another night, one of my single Sims suddenly lost the ability to leave his house.  Clicking on his carpool ride to work or the taxi to go downtown caused the vehicles to simply disappear.  After three days of this he was fired from his job and his bank account balance grew dangerously low.  My secretly sadistic side briefly considered simply letting him starve to death (thereby freeing up his cool bachelor pad for another Sim awaiting affordable housing).  Fortunately, my “higher-self” prevailed, encouraging me to seek a more benevolent course of action.  It was then that I remembered having read about players who teach their Sims to paint using the creativity-inducing easel.  It seems that Sims who do nothing but paint all day can, over time, develop enough talent to create masterpieces which command very high market prices.  Surprisingly, this actually does work.  My Sim made his living by inviting friends over, painting their portraits, and then selling the results.  His first effort netted a paltry $2.00, but gradually the value climbed to around $1500 per painting.

            OK, so maybe these alternative “cat-skinning” methods work in the virtual world of computer games, but what about in real life?  In the build-up to the 2016 Presidential election, various candidates and conservative political pundits decry the fact that America is no longer respected in the world.  Current GOP front runner, Donald Trump, puts it even more bluntly, “America is going to Hell.”  Despite (or perhaps because of) his often rude and bombastic presentation, Trump continues to rank highly in the polls with promises to “make America great again.”  The problem I have with the approaches of mainstream politicians on the right and the left is that both sides merely want to do more of what they have always done in the way that they have always done it, and that this will somehow produce different results.  Never mind that this has often been offered as the very definition of insanity!  

Conservatives want to cut taxes for the wealthy and ease regulations for big business, even though President Reagan’s theory of “trickle down” economics have yet to yield any tangible benefits to the most disadvantaged among us.  Liberals want to implement “programs” that treat the symptoms of economic disadvantages but fail to propose solutions that get at the root causes of society’s woes.

“Making America great again” does not necessarily have to involve taking harsh military action against other countries.  Nor does it have to include declaring a passive-aggressive internal war against brown-skinned immigrants, the poor, women who want the freedom to control their reproductive rights, the LGBT community, and African-American men.  It can be achieved without vilifying all police officers because of the deplorable actions of a few.  It can be done without disrespectfully bashing our President or by constantly viewing the world through a lens labeled, “I’m right!  You’re wrong!  No surrender!  No retreat – ever!”

There’s lotsa ways to skin a cat.  Maybe the answer to poverty lies somewhere in between bloated entitlement programs and complete abandonment of those who have the audacity to be poor in America.  Perhaps the key to improving America’s security in the face of radical terrorist groups like Isis isn’t only diplomatic or purely military but rather some creative combination of both with a focus on how best to adopt a “live and let live” attitude between ourselves and those whose values differ from our own.

Maybe the key to personal happiness doesn’t occur as a result of slaving away at life-sucking jobs for 60 hours every week in order to buy our children $600 smartphones.  Maybe successful, well-adjusted children do not need to be scheduled into multiple extra-curricular activities that reduce family life to endless shuttling to and from practices and events.  Maybe, just maybe, there is more than one path to fulfillment.  Maybe it involves things we haven’t ever tried before.  Maybe we need to look up from our devices, get out of our vehicles, and sit quietly long enough to think of other alternatives.  Maybe we can find “another way to skin a cat.”  Or maybe, if we just learn to be more open, understanding, and compassionate with one another we might find that we don’t need to “skin” the cat at all.