The very definition of the word “POP”

Seems as though I am going through all types of transitions moving to Fairfax, small town America. There’s an occasional sadness that takes over, perhaps grieving my former life - traffic jams, road rage, angry shoppers, standing in lines, taking numbers at the DMV for a three hour wait, noisy neighbors, police sirens, and, my favorite, gun fire. Yes folks, having lived in a suburb outside of North Minneapolis I could always look forward to Friday and Saturday nights hearing the familiar “pop” “pop” “pop” of gang warfare. Within minutes you would hear police sirens knowing something bad had happened.

When I first moved to Fairfax, I was stunned to hear the familiar “pop pop pop” sound, thinking oh come on, you just left all of this behind. Asking my neighbor she said, geesh Maggie, we don’t have enough people here to even FORM a gang, they’re shooting at the doves, those ANNOYING doves! What? I love that sound, it’s soothing to me. So now we’ve gone from gangs of thugs to gangs of annoying doves! Okay, I can handle that! Change, of course!

In my learning to live in a small town, I’ve now learned to love it. I pull into Dave’s Service Station and out either he or one of his guys dash to my car! “Hi Maggie, what’ll it be?” I tell them crap I don’t have any cash on me, and as usual without blinking an eye, I’m told don’t worry about it. Just stop by and pay when you can! I then get a full tank of gas, my windows WASHED - front and back - and small town talk - mostly me chatting away about whatever is on my mind and the guys there just nodding putting up with my nonstop chatter! How much better can it be? Gas, windows cleaned AND someone to listen! And even IF Dave does an eye roll, he’s such a gentleman, he waits till I leave! How does the word “pop” apply here? Because I pop over to the station, pop open my gas cover and out pops Dave or his buddies to “fill er up”.

I stop in the Dollar Store (uh, I’ve spent hundreds of dollars there - geesh), and I’ve decided they need to change the name to “Hundreds of Dollars” Store because there’s NO way you can walk out of that store and spend a dollar, not once, not ever! But again, all those items you can’t live without? Right there! And the friendliest people working there, always wanting to chat and so ready to help in any way! If you were in the Cities, you couldn’t FIND a clerk - in fact, probably the only way you’d locate a clerk is if the store was being held up. You would recognize them because they’re the one with their arms in the air. Otherwise, you can’t find a clerk, no matter what! Again, how does pop apply to the Dollar Store? Because I buy my Diet Pepsi, my pop, my drink of choice there. Not Soda. No! “Pop!”

Okay, the hardware store. OMG I love this place. I just bought a mountain bike from them and was able to pick it up fully assembled with my new bike seat! It’s a gel seat that I really wanted to ensure that certain body parts are, well, “cushioned”. Butt, speaking of that (sorry had to do that), I needed to bring the bike back to have the gears tightened. The gear didn’t engage and yours truly injured her knee and has been limping now for four weeks. Come on, riding a bike, IN TOWN, up a hill and I injure my knee? Are you seriously kidding me? So, the ONLY way I can console myself is to shop and limp through the stores spending things to console my wounded pride. And yes, I heard a “pop” sound when my knee hyper-extended peddling. So again, that word “pop”. Bet that makes your skin crawl, “popping” something in a knee joint. Huge sigh.

I think you’re all getting the picture here now. In fact, we just celebrated the 4^th of July and I don’t think I need to discuss that scenario with all the fireworks going off. But speaking for every dog owner, I can’t begin to tell you how FUN it was for me, hunkering down in my basement with three terrified dogs, AC units blasting, television blaring, doing everything I could to drown out the oh so familiar pop, pop sounds of fireworks. Am I old and too miserable to remember how I was the worst culprit in the neighborhood, my dad and I shooting off bottle rockets terrifying the neighbors? What happened? There’s that word . . . “pop” - another name for my father!

Such a little word, three letters, yet it can mean so darn much. It can mean drinking your favorite beverage, remembering your father or grandpa, people having a blast on a holiday which I can fondly remember as a child, or wrenching a body part, or it can mean the end of a life - human or animal. So the next time you use words, think about how you use them. Words can make you laugh till you cry, words can make you cry till you laugh, or words can be the comfort you needed to bring joy when all hope seemed lost. Are you still reading this? Or are you going to contact the Editor and “pop” off about how annoying I am? Sorry, I can’t stop myself. I just can’t!