DECISIONS, DECISIONS
It’s difficult sometimes to make up one’s mind. In light of all the things I’ve done over my lifetime I think I would rather be a mule. I haven’t come by this choice easily. I’ve thought it over on occasion whenever the tune “Swinging on a Star” has rambled across my brain. “Would you like to swing on a star? Carry moonbeams home in a jar? And be better off than you are? Or would you rather be a mule?” Then the lyrics go on to denigrate the mule as well as a pig later on. I’m not so sure humans are any better. In fact, I’ve arrived at the conclusion that the lyrics are rather judgmental.
I think mules are cool. At the Common Ground Fair held in September in Maine I enjoy visiting the farm animals in the barn and I go straight for the mules. There is something about them that is so satisfying to me. I first heard about the qualities of mules from a sick-bay roommate back in the mid-sixties in Portsmouth Naval Hospital. We were in an isolation ward for ten days because the TB skin test that we were subject to came out positive. Back then a positive test result was cause for panic and we were immediately put into a limbo condition to see if the disease was going to manifest. Medical staff behaved like the mules of the lyrics. That is; “His back is brawny but his brain is weak, He’s just plain stupid with a stubborn streak.” What my roommate, a tobacco farmer, revealed to me is that mules are the beast of burden of choice for those who can choose between a horse and a mule. He claimed that mules are precise in their footwork between the rows of tobacco plants whereas horses walk on everything. That little piece of information has stuck with me for all these 50 plus years.
So, I think some days I would rather be a mule. My only fear is that I might not want to stay a mule forever. I might want to visit mule-dom and then return to my human form. That then raises another issue; how to perform this changeover and do it under controlled circumstances. I’d need a friend whom I could trust to not mess around with me and bring me back when I said to. I’ll have to think more on this. I’ll get back to you.
G. M. Goodwin 1 July 2016
Here is an update from more things about mules that I have learned in the past four years. Dick Day, an old friend of mine who has passed over the bar and who was a WWII veteran was a quartermaster in the Army over in Italy during that war. His job was to provide material supplies to the front to keep the fighting men armed and fed. He was assigned to a company of mules which were being used to carry those supplies over the mountains to the front. The road conditions were horrible and only mules would be able to make the journey. So, Dick became a mule-skinner for a period of time. When Dick was telling me about his adventure, I recalled that time I was in quarantine with my friend from North Carolina. I asked Dick about the reputation that the mules were more dexterous afoot than the horses. He didn’t remember anything particularly adroit about their footwork but he did recall how single minded they were. That was about all he said. He had to use the stick more often than he liked to get them to cross the mountains.
I imagine that if the story about the mule being a more careful farm implement in the rows of tobacco was true it was more than likely because the creature is a product of two species. A mule is a combination of a Jack burro and a mare horse. The Jack would certainly impart the nimble-footedness of burros into the pairing for sure. That’s all I wanted to add.
Here it is, 2020, we are in a Covid-19 pandemic. I would really rather be a mule.
Best to all.
Gentle George
June 27, 2020
Playing Fair and Being Kind 