Beach(es) Beat

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I feel obliged to tell you that I am some kind of cheesed off with the Smithsonian magazine. For many years, me and The Wife have been contented subscribers to this periodical and we have never been disappointed.

Every month we would learn of the latest discovery unearthed by the tireless journalists who roam the world in search of new insights into old mysteries and we were always delighted, and indeed enriched, with the intelligence that they shared so selflessly.

Thanks to the Smithsonian, I am possessed with a wealth of information concerning esoteric subjects such as the Himalayan three-winged butterfly, and this is knowledge I am prepared to pass along to anyone who cares to listen.

Unfortunately, whenever I begin to broach the subject at one of our gatherings somebody always jumps up and say they must leave because the babysitter will be going into overtime and that can be expensive.

Now considering that all my contemporaries are several decades beyond the child-rearing years, I have begun having reservations about the validity of that particular excuse but all the other guests say the same thing so who am I to buck the wishes of the majority?

But getting back to the Smithsonian, I have always appreciated their stories about earlier times so imagine my dismay when I received the latest edition and discovered the front cover was trumpeting the fact that a story on Bo Diddley could be found on Page 80.

I do not dispute the reports that Bo is a legendary guitarist and possessed of very nice table manners, according to those who know the man, but that is not why I read the Smithsonian.

I was to learn about tombs and the 1,000-year-old skeletons of ancient races that have languished undetected until some archaeologist dug them up and I want to know more about the pottery-making techniques of long-lost cultures. And just to set the record straight, I have nothing against Diddley's first name.

In my younger days I once fell in love with the star of a movie called Ten. The star was Bo Derek but my affection was unrequited because frankly I am no Beau Brummel but that is a story best left for another day.

I guess that what bothers me is what I see as the trend by some salespeople to emphasize the non-essential. Don't sell the steak, sell the sizzle, an advertising executive once advised years ago and that type of approach has become very widespread. On the other hand, I guess what really bothers me is that I liked my Smithsonian better when it was just a little stodgy. It's always been very informative and I don't want to see it turn into something like mummies for dummies.