Definitions

It is curious to me how sometimes we come about the definition of words and phrases.  As slobbering young people our brains try to relate how others reference an object or circumstance and apply it in future communications.  We had to learn words by being immersed in the language.  It is amazing to me how some of those childhood memories somehow manage to stick in my head, only to be retrieved on the odd occasion. 

I grew up in Austin within a stone’s throw of the intersection of Barton Springs Road and South Lamar Blvd.   This little intersection was the best place in the World.  Within walking distance was Sandy's Frozen Custard, the bowling alley, (now Bicycle Sport Shop), the roller skating rink, (which became the Armadillo World Headquarters), and Put-Put Golf.  However the biggest attraction for me, and any kid fortunate enough to grow up in the area, was the Mini Carnival.  I am sure it had a real name back then, but to me it was THE place.  The Carnival had the tallest and most amazing Ferris Wheel - it must have towered fifteen feet.  The Shetland Ponies stomped impatiently as they awaited my arrival, and the little wooden boats floated in still waters, ready to deliver me to my next adventure.  Long ago Jack in the Box desecrated this little slice of paradise sending the ponies to pasture, the boats to the bone yard, and the Ferris Wheel to wherever kids memories are kept.

In the 1960s Mopac Expressway/Loop 1 did not yet exist.   From our house, which was in-between Westlake Hills and Rollingwood, the closest grocery store was Kash-n-Karry grocery.  It was one block North of Barton Springs Rd on South Lamar.  We traveled Bee Cave Rd to Barton Springs to S. Lamar daily in route to the grocery store and most other places in the Universe it seems.  But I digress.

The words?  “Maybe” and “I doubt it”.

“Mom can we stop at The Carnival after we leave the store?”

“Maybe.”

In my young impressionable years this one word held the slightest ray of hope. Like a single tired rose on a withering bush, it gave a splash of color to a grey world.  Yet, inevitably, the last petal would land with a deafening crash as we departed the grocery store and Mom would fail to make the turn into heaven.  We would continue home with the meaning of “maybe” answering the question about a pig's ability to fly.

“Mom can we stop at The Carnival after we leave the store?”

“I doubt it.”

Early on “I doubt it” failed to click with me.  I understood “No” really well, but I could not hear a “no” in “I doubt it”. 

It did not take long to learn that “I doubt it” held zero hope.  I guess Mom had learned that if she said “no” then I would soon be clawing at the glass with bloody fingers while dirty tears streamed down my face as I screamed something unintelligible about the injustice being served a perfect child with an abusive Mom denying an Angel his basic necessity in life.   “I doubt it” postponed the inevitable for a while.  Perhaps Mom could make it to Zilker Park where I could focus on the next best thing, the train.

By then I would have surely forgotten the Ferris Wheel.  Maybe.  But I doubt it.