I am a human bobblehead. Allow me to explain, especially if that seems random or weird.
In my defense, though, for those who know me or have been reading this column for any length of time, such a concept is not foreign. I tend to have lots of activity bouncing around in my brain and then mid-thought, suddenly and without warning, will say things that in all likelihood are apropos of nothing.
If you’re unfamiliar with the bobblehead concept, let me paint you a word picture that may spark a connection. Remember those dogs that often adorned the back window of a car and the head would wobble, or bobble, if you will, as you drove down the road?
Well, these days the toys come in people form, too. There is some kind of hinge or hook that allows the head to bounce or move.
Me? Well, I don’t know that there’s anything that makes my head do this, except for special circumstances — like mashed potatoes or a song I particularly like. The former is just one fave comfort food I’ve discovered evokes this response.
Ron noticed it several years ago when he prepared a nice chicken dinner for me one night. Seems he witnessed me at the dining room table, silently and involuntarily bobbing my head all over the place as I dug into the meal he had cooked.
“You just looked so happy,” he said, chuckling.
And I was.
I have since recognized this is a tendency I have. Apparently, happiness that cannot be contained has to come out somewhere — in my case, just off the top of my head.
I mention music, too, because sometimes you just have to dance. This works out well if I'm walking or even driving, as I can bob, or weave, wherever the music takes me.
In addition to oncoming traffic, there are exceptions to the acceptability of this. Like when I recently experienced headaches and to be on the safe side, my oncologist scheduled me for an MRI.
I have claustrophobia, but they gave me a choice of music as I was undergoing the test and I was good to go. I chose some oldies from the 1960s as I thought I'd hear a selection of songs I liked.
Unfortunately, the playlist had hit a lull, and none of them were my favorites.
I didn't realize that was a good thing, until suddenly this great song started to play. My head began to twitch, my toes wiggled, a strong desire to tap. But I remembered the technician had secured my head for a reason — so I'd be absolutely still and get the best possible read on the test.
That's when it hit me, that I am a human bobblehead. I am out of control.
FYI, the test came back negative — no cancer. Or as I like to say, they did a scan of my brain and found nothing.
The moral of the story, though, is a reminder you may have heard in your travels that I encourage you to embrace as I have.
"Sing like no one's listening, love like you've never been hurt, dance like nobody's watching and live like its heaven on earth."