I’d spend more time with people if they weren’t such dingalings

The fact that I write most of my documents on a laptop computer demonstrates the incredible inventiveness of human beings; not so much my inventiveness in writing things, but in the tool that allows me to do so without pen and paper. Pen and paper were, in their earliest stages, pretty neat inventions; they were, however, an adaptation of getting something dirty with something else; they did not represent a brilliant, creative, process that took disparate elements and diffused them something not found in nature. A computer, on the other hand, represents a vast variety of human imagination, genius and knowledge distilled in such a manner that it created a tool that is unlike anything else.

That humans are very clever is indisputable. That humans are equally stupid is just as inarguable. The Nobel prize is awarded to those who contribute to the advancement of human learning and society in some way. The Darwin Awards, on the other hand, are given, posthumously, to those who demonstrate the not everyone has the mental capacity to survive the world in which they live.This latter award is an extreme example of how humans are, all too often, dingalings.

We’ve all had moments of sheer foolish embarrassment. Pushing on a door clearly marked pull; putting down our glasses and forgetting where they are the instant we need them; confidently greeting a stranger that looked like somebody else; distractedly adding pepper to our food thinking it was salt. These are minor peccadilloes, boo-boos and foul ups that are of little consequence, other than a moment’s blush and lifetime of teasing. Our mistakes are not always so inconsequential. A teenage moment of passion can lead to a lifetime of regret or unexpected parenthood; a quick glance away from the road to the cell phone can have fatal consequences; words uttered in haste or anger can devastate a relationship or ruin a relationship.

Our folly is not limited to a momentary lapse in attention or a single wee event. Often our poor choices and dingaling moments are the result of a long series of events, of family circumstances or personal tastes that lead us away from the wise and prudent path. As the son of Italian immigrants that had come to Canada seeking a better life, I was the product of a number of unspoken expectations. Like all their friends and relatives that had travelled with them, my parents sought simply to get a job, any job, when they arrived. The economy in Canada was so much better than that in Italy that even simple, low-paying work was a great step up. Hopefully that first step would lead to better things; a betting job, a better home, all of the perks of living in a nation with so much to offer.

The greater expectation, however, was that the first generation born in Canada would do even better. Their parents would lay the groundwork, establishing themselves and building a good home for their family; the children of these successfully planted immigrants would then have the opportunity for better education and a better lifestyle. This was the background that informed my decision to go into a pre-med program at the University of Toronto. I didn’t necessarily want to be a doctor, but I figured that if I took the courses that might lead to that career option, I was doing pretty well; one way or another I would have stepped up from my parent’s careers and fulfilled their unspoken ambitions for me.

I was a dingaling. While not the worst decision I had ever made, it led far greater failure than success. I had signed up for six courses. I finished five of them and passed only one. There was no single defining moment for that disastrous first attempt at post-secondary education. It was a series of expectations and choices the led me to the wrong place at the wrong time. I was destined to fail by a series of circumstances both within, and beyond, my control.

All of us have a bit of dingaling in us. All of us possess a certain amount of genius as well. More importantly, all of us has a unique personality and way of understanding other people. Someone who is an inspiration and light for me might be the dullest most uninteresting dingaling for you. Your best friend might be someone that I can’t stand, simply because we view the world so differently. We even go through phases in our various relationships when the person we admire one moment drives us nuts the next. The course of human interaction is never smooth, partly because of circumstances, partly because we all have our dingaling moments, moments that make us wonder how we’ve managed to get out of bed without breaking our necks.

The genius and the dingaling alike make life more interesting; they provide us with checks and balances that help us understand ourselves a little bit better. At times our patience might be tested, at times we might be the ones testing our best friend’s limits. I wouldn’t have it any other way.