"The Fine Art Of Noticing"

I mentioned it last time.  It's something I do.  I'm a noticer. 

Sometimes it’s big things.  I recall taking a class in “Jewish Intellectual History”, where the professor quoted a victim of Anti-Semitism, complaining, “They kick us, and then blame us for limping.”

I noticed the same principle in the current political system, where people investigating the president bewail,

“They withhold all the evidence and then proclaim, ‘There’s no evidence.’”

Who knows?  Maybe that has already been noticed.  (If not as skillfully expressed.)  That’s the trouble with big stuff.  It’s like the big inventions I notice are needed, like the “Adjustable Walker” (“No stooping!”)  Then I see one on television.  It was a quality “noticing.”  They just beat me to the punch.  (Collecting millions in royalties from leaning “Seniors” with improved posture.)

Now, I stick to the small stuff.
   

For me, there are no “small noticings”, that others either missed, or found unworthy of mention.  I mention everything.  It is not my nature to catch fish, and quietly throw them back in.  I notice, and I blab.  Cementing my position as a “First Class Noticer.”  (Or a “First Class Annoyance”, whichever you prefer, but I hope it’s the first one.)

I want people to know what I noticed.  Like when, as mentioned in yesterday’s post, the guy on Tales of Wells Fargo said,

“I’m not sure yet, but I’ll let you know when I do.”

Today, I return with my most miniscule “noticing” to date.  (Making it worthwhile because it’s a record.)

It happened on Lawman.  Yes, another western.  What do you want me to watch?  “Spin-Dancing” on cable news?

“We have presented both sides.  They were ‘spinning’ their heads off, but at least we weren’t biased.”

Here’s what I noticed on Lawman.  This is amazing.  I am sure you’ll agree.

Dan Troop, marshal of Laramie, heads out of his office at night.  Must be cold, because he dons his three-quarter length jacket.  Though not that cold, as he is not buttoning it up.

That’s when it happened.

Dan Troop has his marshal’s badge, pinned to his jacket.  Catching its glinting flash and knowing immediately it’s true, I then see   

Dan Troop has another badge, pinned to his shirt.

Can you believe it?

The guy wears two badges!

What is he, some tin star “Dandy”?

What marshal wears two badges?

Matt Dillon never wore two badges.  For him, one badge was sufficient.  Though his vest obscured the badge on his shirt, he saw no need to wear another badge on his vest.  And when he put on his jacket, there was no badge on his jacket because wearing his jacket covered the badge on his shirt.

The man wore one badge!

The traditional number for a marshal.

I see Dan Troop, dickering for his job:

“I want hundred a month, and two badges.”

“The hundred a month is acceptable.  But we’re not a town that wastes badges.”

“Those are my terms.  Take it or leave it.”

“Do you want a third badge, for Sunday?

“Adios.”

“Wait, marshal.  Two badges it is.”

And the dickering is complete. 

Who knows?  Maybe somebody did research, and the “Two-Badge Plan” is historically accurate.  Or maybe, during a lunch break, the show’s star sidled up to the producer, and said,

“How do they know I’m the marshal when I’m wearing my jacket?”

What do you say to the guy?  “Why not unpin the badge from your shirt and pin it onto your… “

Who needs the calls from his agent?  Next day in his Dressing Room – a new badge in a envelope, with the accompanying handwritten note:  “Good thinking.”

Do my obscure noticings mean much in the overall Grand Scheme of Things?

I admit they do not.

But you know how devoted bird watchers garner acclaim for spotting rare species?

I saw two badges on Lawman.

Thank you.

I appreciate the applause.