OF TRUMPETS AND VINEYARDS I would say Im likeable (even - TopicsExpress

OF TRUMPETS AND VINEYARDS I would say Im likeable (even lovable). Most people who spend time with me end up treating me with reverence. Call it blowing my own trumpet. It is. Whose should I blow anyway? People dont have these musical instruments anymore, and those that do will never let you blow them. And, take it from me; you wont blow one unless you own it. Or unless someone who owns it die, which is a dubious ownership, dont you think. I own it or so I think. And since its like a wife in the African context of culture, or Naboths vineyard in the Bible, where no one should #use it until you kick the basket, Im inclined to put it to good use. Yeah, they dont blow other peoples trumpets over here when youre still alive. Expecting that is like Adam expecting Eve to cheat on him so he can divorce her. Unrealistic, isnt it? And far-fetched too. So I blow my own trumpet once in a while. I tell all and sundry that Im good. If they dont listen, I wait a few days and do it again. Louder. If they tell me to shut up, I reveal to them that Im not doing it loud enough. They should be thankful, I say. But then, blowing a trumpet is very exhausting. I guess thats why most people dont own them and they wont be caught dead imagining it. Those who own them rarely blow. So, after a moment, Im panting and cant go on. I leave to take a sip of water, promising that I will be back for some more trumpet-blowin. Blow your own trumpets, folks. Be your own heroes heroines. Theres nothing wrong with the above board approach. Failure to do so is like a husband who does not consumate his marriage, so that at his death, the widow is yet to lose her virginity. And the man who takes his place has miles of depth and raw pleasure to explore. What a shame! Ill not be that man. The former, I mean. And being the latter has no guarentee. Ill, therefore, plant my own vineyard and make it #produce. Walking through the vineyard, a smile on my face and a trumpet over my lips, head poised upward as if Im about to catch a falling drop of rain, I will blow. The birds and the bad guys will hear me. Theyll know Im in my vineyard and that Im there to protect it. Still blowing, Ill cultivate it with my fingers everyday, dress it with my money and #water it my hose. Ill ensure the fertile soil beneath does not go thirsty, and that theres no room for it to gap and admire any other water, poisoned water. This is how I blow my trumpet. Now, any vineyard out there willing to be acquired for a lifetime commitment by me for me, and me alone? I only #need one. I might want more but I wont go looking except by mutual consent which, in case you want to know, is very unlikely and its official name is #divorce.