Pieces and Parts

When Johnny Miller was about three or four, he loved to go into the living room, which was paneled in an off-white paneling, a picture or two on the wall, the small black and white television set across the room, and climb up into his Daddy’s lap, over in Daddy’s chair.

His Daddy would ask him, "Do you know what this is?" And point to Johnny's elbow.

He'd say, "This is my elbow."

And Daddy would say, "That's your 'elbone'".

Daddy would ask, "What's this?" And he'd point to Johnny's eyes.

Johnny would answer, "Eyes," and Daddy would say, "These are your eyeballs, and your eyeballs are in your eyeball socket holes."

Next would be the ears, which were “earball socket holes”, then his head, which was his “noggin” with the “fuzz” on top.

Inside his mouth were his “tushes” or teeth. And you can guess what his “snot horn” was. And that “flapper” inside his mouth would someday get him in trouble, when he’d talk too much. Johnny’s stomach, according to his daddy, was his “punch,” and he knew it was so, because Daddy’d been in the hospital one time and told the nurse that he had an upset stomach, and the nurse wrote down, “nauseated paunch”.

Like his “elbones”, Johnny also had “kneebones”. And what he wore on his feet were, of course, his “horseshoes”.

Later on in life, Johnny Miller would look back at those conversations, and know that his Daddy was being silly, but also remember some of the happiest moments of his life. He’d not be able to recall exactly what all of his body parts were, other than the “ordinary” names, but he’d always remember the feeling of sitting in his father’s lap, laughing and loving and playing and learning about his pieces and parts.

There were some lessons that book learning could never teach a young boy.