Intelligence?
Some days things
don’t go where I would like them to go. Meaning it is probably not a good idea
to go fishing for a compliment only to realize the wrong question has been
asked. My wife of all these years was reading a book called How to think
like Leonardo Da Vinci. In the publication,
it states there are seven types of intelligence that range from Mathematical to
Intrapersonal (self-knowledge). Examples of these two were Da Vinci and the
latter, Mother Teresa. There was another five categories in between including Bodily
Kinesthetic, which listed Muhammad Ali.
I was engulfed in
self-absorption trying to write some profound piece when she started carrying
on about intelligence. The category most interesting to her, possibly as a way
finding her place in the world, was Spatial-Mechanical intelligence which was
defined as having acute artistic skills and vision. Georgia O’Keefe was one example of this.
Having always thought O’Keefe was a marginal artist, I’m sure she was finding
herself growing in stature if not inflating her ego. “Hey, you aughta read this
because I think it might be important. This writer has really put it on the
line and is partially explaining why I am the way I am”, she said.
I personally did not
think that was possible as not even a Freud treatise could cover that. I’m
thinking, “Good luck on that one. Your acute right brain thinking, has no logical
definition.” Lifting my now confused brow in an inquisitive but subtle gesture,
maybe a doubting grimace, I thought it only reasonable to ask (remembering she
was clearly being personally delusional), “Hey, where do I fall on that list?”
Without even a slight
hesitation she said, “Way down.” Initially, I didn’t really know what she meant
but after reflecting on her earlier listing of the four, I realized Mother
Teresa was the noted individual on the last category so I felt some consolation,
but she repeated “way down” after I marveled on the Good Mother.
At that point, I
regrouped as a way of getting a better definition as to where I “really” stood.
I needed some confirmation of my place in this whirling sea of humanity. After
all, I was somebody. I don’t mean “coulda been somebody” I was somebody, so why
should I tolerate this belittlement.
First on the list
was Logical- Mathematical but after some friendly conversation I was reminded that
the professor in entry-level calculus said something to the effect of “Mr.
Wright have you ever considered taking up finger painting?” Real funny. Just because I couldn’t
differentiate a differential equation doesn’t mean I could paint with my
fingers---Oh, maybe that was the point.
Next was Verbal-Linguistics
with a guy named Shakespeare listed as some kind of genius. OK. Now we are
getting somewhere because after all I am a man of letters as this column well
illustrates. Then I hear, “Linguistics! Hell all you can speak is broken
English and profanity---and that Spanish is nothing but foulmouthed obscenities
you learned in the strawberry fields of Montello.” Like a beaten puppy, I
shuffled to the sofa but realized in a moment of glee, at least I could speak
in complete sentences, of say ten words and could even pronounce words more
than three syllables making me more articulate than at least one of our
politicians.
Off to the Spatial-Mechanical
grouping, which admittedly held Michelangelo and Buckminster Fuller. Surely, I
can rebuild an engine (as long as it was made before 1962) and I love to take
things apart. I am also, by my definition, an artist of some note---no one is
sure what note but still. If I had a hat to hang this might be my best shot. I
received no confirmation other than a lifted eye and a distorted grin of
derision.
Number four was
Musical Intelligence and that did give me pause because of my prowess with the violin
but when I saw Mozart’s name on the list it became obvious I should maybe look
elsewhere, however, I once perfectly played that one note the same as Itzhak Perlman.
The next listing of Bodily-Kinesthetic featured
a few famous athletes like Ali. “Hey Ann, I think this may be the one for me.
Come on, you know I played basketball until I was forty-eight and I had moves.
You know, like I almost dunked the ball without getting hurt. I had finesse. A
rugby star maybe?”
Opps, not such a
good thought, “Is that why they called you Dave the Butcher?” Ann responded. “Is
it finesse that got you those concussions? Did you garner a cheap plastic
trophy for that one? Michael Jordan you ain’t.”
So the next
category was approached and there was Interpersonal-Social, a listing that may
have some promise because I like, Gandhi and Mandela have had some political
experience and have accomplished some greater social good. “Hey, what was it
they used to say about you? Something like, “’When they try to run you out of
town again, just get out in front and pretend it is a parade, then wave victoriously
to the crowd of angry citizens.”” “Didn’t you threaten to kill Carl because
he stole your wood pile?” “Gandhi?”
Well, the last
one was Intrapersonal Intelligence meaning knowing one’s self and your place in
the greater world. Seeing this last one was very disturbing because having just
gone through the first six and being soundly reminded I had just a teeny-weeny few
weaknesses and really didn’t appear to qualify for any of those this was the
last straw. Maybe I had none of this one because I thought I did have some of
the others and maybe my DNA had given me too much of the delusional gene.
“Oh,
your alright, I guess. Just don’t get too full of yourself. Go get a beer and
remember you can’t be a Da Vinci no matter what the book says.”
Some questions go
better unasked.
