How does he do it?

Many people have asked me how I come up with a column every week, or maybe it was how do I come up with a “weakly� column? Anyway, I am going to let you in on my secret.

Maybe I should clarify first. When I say many, I am using the term the same way they used to in the old westerns when the Army Indian scout would return to the fort and they would ask him how many of Geronimo’s men were out there. He would answer something like, “Mole Eye see one, two … many braves.�

So anything over two would be many, right? Let’s see, there was my wife, then one of my kids, then that guy on the street that wanted to know what was I thinking. That counts, right?

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Actually, the movies were not playing fair. You would think that Indians couldn’t count, just because they would give answers like, “As many buffalo as the leaves on the trees.� See, you need to ask the next question in order to get the information. “And how many would that be, Scout Half Heart?� To which he would then answer, “Two-thousand, three-hundred and four on this side of the river.�

Historians used to laugh at the Indians that sold Manhattan Island for the equivalent of $24 in trade goods. Surely this proves that they had no concept of numbers. Then somebody dug a little deeper and they found that the Indians that sold the land were only renting it out and also they did not own it or even live there. They were visiting that day from New Jersey. A similar practice continues to this day. It became more commonplace after they built those bridges to New Jersey.

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So, bowing to popular demand, here is the first part of my secret. I have a condition that the medical and scientific communities refer to, clinically, as “Lack of Focus.â€�  This means that my mind wanders, fixating briefly on one thing, then another. Sometimes it sort of gets stuck on something and remains until it has squeezed out every last drop of minutiae.

Occasionally it slips back in time, dredging up heartwarming nostalgia. Once again I relive my defeats and my victory (Hey! I was a member of the team, even if I didn’t actually play). Sometimes I do not remember that I have already remembered a thing and write about it again. That is where the editor comes in.

Anyway, that is the first part of my secret. Now the really interesting part …

Oh! Look! A squirrel! Why does he keep turning that nut over and over?

Bill Abrams resides (and lets his mind wander) in Pine Plains.