Usefulness is in the Eye of the Beholder

All of my life — well, at least a good part of it — I have wanted one thing more than anything else: to be useful.

I was just born with the helpful gene in my body somewhere ... and repeatedly steer myself toward being as useful as I can. 

On my perpetual path toward usefulness, however, I have encountered what often seems to be a dilemma. Specifically, what I think of as useful, is often not seen as useful by others. 

There is, to my mind, a sort of off the rack notion about the definition of useful. Things that we toss into this category such as clothes into a drawer include: helping someone change a tire, holding a door open for anyone, offering fairly accurate directions when asked by a traveler or taking out the trash once in awhile.

But try to get to a list of ten things that are useful and you may notice that by eight you are slowing down. Shoot for twenty and you will hit a wall at 16 or 17. 

I am an artist and I have hoped that is useful.

Some of you may nod and say, well, making pretty images to hang on people's walls is a kind of service. But, in fact, the last piece of art I did was a video tape of me rolling a thirty foot long piece of drawing paper out in the sand like a sidewalk to the lake, uncoiling a yellow rope on it and slowly, very slowly, dancing along the trail of the rope towards the waves as the video documented the event. No one was there, and although the work was shown in a venue or two, it is a challenge to say just exactly how that would be useful to anyone else. I hedge my bet in art by teaching — and educators hope that is useful to students — but we rarely can be sure. 

It is far easier for me to believe that my expressed madcap ideas are useful. I am an idea man — so, when I hear someone say, "I am having problems with my sink or I think my car is finally a goner," ideas come to my head and I like to suggest them right away while they are fresh.

"Imagine that your sink is supposed to operate exactly as it is right now," I offer, suggesting a recast of expectations that will remove the problem. "Put your car up on blocks, cut the top off, fill the passenger compartment with dirt, and plant it with nice groupings of flowers."

I often get strange looks with my advice but just as often I get something more — a laugh. 

I've decided long ago that my gift of ideation, if you will, is not the sort that leads to money. Oh, I have had some million dollar schemes, inventions, innovations or products that were sure fire hits, but, of course, I never pursued them.

I was on to other ideas by the time someone else thought of the two handled snow shovel, hinged so that you might angle it like a full-grown snow plow. And light weights — the heavy hands for joggers with the flashlight/warning light factor. Well, if someone hasn't made those they did come up with the Shake Weight — the exercise that will make you a hero if your sport is shaking aerosol cans or what not.

And the Original Year 2000 T-shirt lost its savor soon after the turn of the millenium. I thought of it in the eighties. 

My ideas lead to something less wrinkly than money. My ideas lead to laughter, so I am sort of the "Court Fool of Ideation." And, as off the wall, under the box or beyond the sack as they are, I think they are useful and that people enjoy these spurs to think beyond — well, just beyond. 

And then, there are the Chris Rocks of the world who manage to combine foolishness and funding, disproving the adage that a fool and his money are soon parted.