The McCollumn - 1/28/11: A few 'Cliff Rules'

We all govern our lives by a set of personal beliefs and mantras.
Some have a firm grounding in faith; some subscribe to more self-developed rules and ethics.
While I have a solid foundation in Biblical laws and teachings, I do occasionally feel the need to cover items not necessarily covered by the good book.
I have “The Cliff Rules,” an ever-increasing list of advice and guidelines to help make life a little easier.
I don’t claim to have an answer to everything (most of the time), but my rules help get me through the day.
This week, I offer you just a few of them.
(Yes, it was, in fact, difficult to think of something to write this week. I’ll do better next week; you have my word.)
The inside of your car is an extension of being in public. Don’t do anything in there you wouldn’t do in public.
This one isn’t as tawdry as it sounds, although it was born from my friend Jessica and I catching a couple going at it in their car at the top of the library’s parking deck.
With a sincere concern for their well-being and safety, we drove around them several times blasting French cabaret music and holding a sign out of the window that said “Use protection.”
The guy laughed. The girl seemed not so amused.
This rule can also apply to impromptu red light dance parties. Twice this year (and I do mean 2011), I’ve been jamming out at a red light, only to look over and see people I know (including local clergy) staring back at my awesome dance moves and usually laughing.
Spare yourselves the embarrassment, dear readers. Keep it private.
Establish a high base level of crazy.
I’ve worked hard over the years to cultivate a certain air of insanity. This column has played an integral role in that, allowing me a public forum to broadcast my far-from-normal ideas and thoughts.
The blind date column. The “Cliff thinks he has mad cow disease” column. Et cetera, et cetera.
Why make yourself seem slightly insane?
Honestly, it’s because people known to be crazy are allowed to speak their minds.
I’m not certain when speaking truth and saying how you feel about things became abnormal, but it appears you’re only allowed to do such things if you’re elderly (the “advanced age” argument) or nutbar crazy.
We should feel free to say what we feel and tell people the truth about what we think of them, but this is the South.
We wear the polite mask of manners, as the generations before us did. We stand pat, forcing ourselves to silence our inner voices for the sake of maintaining the status quo.
We need to be able to express that voice. It isn’t healthy to stifle yourself.
So, add a little whackadoo into your life. Create a few eccentricities, let them blossom into full-blown well-established crazy and then enjoy being able to say and do whatever you want.
Trust me, it’s a phenomenal thing to be able to do.
Making biscuits makes everything better.
This is not so much a Cliff Rule as it is a Janie Ruth-ism.
My grandmother was happiest and at her best in her kitchen.
Her food was a way for her to give and show love in a pure, wonderful fashion.
Her pride and joy: her homemade cats head biscuits.
Three simple ingredients: flour, buttermilk, and shortening; when combined together, though, perfection and joy.
When I’m feeling down or blue, I reach for the sifter and start punching dough.
Of course, I usually make far too many for me to eat, so I end up making biscuit runs all over the county.
Taking biscuits to folks, I get to see the happiness I assume my grandmother saw when she made them for us.
They may not always be perfect, but as the platitude says, “It’s the thought that counts.”
Maybe biscuits aren’t your thing, but I imagine we all have some dish, some way of showing love, kindness and friendship that we can give to one another.