My Passion Safari
Striding Off to Somewhere
By Steve Carr
I’m drowning in passion—everyone else’s passions. David’s passion for golf, Kitty’s passion for Idaho history, Pepper’s passion for her dog bone. Now even the advertisers are rubbing it in. A current ad for an electronic device that does it all, from playing Beethoven (the composer) to walking Beethoven (the dog) asks, “Everyone has a passion . . . what will your verse be?”
I don’t know my passion, dag gummit, and if your fancy computer is so great, why can’t it tell me mine?
Recently, on a flight east, while hunkered in my seat searching my know-it-all tablet computer for my verse, my seatmate introduced himself, saying he was an efficiency consultant for a chemical firm. In the same breath, he said, “So what’s your passion?”
My first thought was, this guy’s trying to pick me up. My reaction was a flush of embarrassment at the flattery—no one has flirted with me since high school. Next, I worried about how to let this guy down easy—after first soliciting a few compliments—for we would be sharing an armrest for several hours.
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