I grew up with an alcoholic father and a paranoid schizophrenic mother. For me, life was mostly about trying to get control over the chaos. I lacked joy and wonder.
Eventually I married a terrific person and we had children. That’s what really breached my self-controlled world.
Our kids didn’t care about managing their lives. They explored the wondrous things I had missed as a child. Like the feel of lawn grasses and the tastes of different berries.
What really unglued me, though, was how kids enjoyed the various tones, durations, and vibratos of flatulence.
As a parent, I learned to love farts. To enjoy them. To celebrate them with children. Each one was a special gift, often unexpected.
St. Augustine (@400 CE), arguably the greatest Christian theologian from the Apostle Paul to the present, was amazed about the ways humans produced melodious sounds from their breeches. He implied that listening to others’ farts led him closer to God. Oh, my.
Now I have grandchildren, and the joy of listening to bodily squeaks and toots is even more fun. My grandson (4) and I concocted a name for the imaginary “creator” of such sounds: Duty Tootie Boom Boom.
Childhood can be chaos, as I experienced. I still live in those shadows.
But life can also be delightfully beyond our control. One way is sharing ungovernable body tunes (maybe hymns, to Augustine).
I am a communication professor who tries to understand language. I am not surprised that Wikipedia includes a lengthy discussion of flatulence that seriously addresses topics like “volume” and “gas dynamics.” Nor am I surprised about a web page that evangelistically spreads the good news of 7 techniques for taming excessive gas (7 is a biblical number, by the way).
But I am also a father, grandfather, and neighbor who now delights in children’s spontaneous dialogue about toots. I’ve gained some of the uncontrollable wonder that I was denied as a kid.
Flatulence is a melodious gift, not just a necessary body function. Even if it doesn’t bring me closer to God, it certainly helps me live more freely in community with everyone who has the heart of a child.
In any case, I study—as well as enjoy—fruity flatulence among the innocent. May the brave let loose! And talk about it with glee.
Thanks for listening to my windy prose.
—Dr. Q