Bill's Bulletin Board
By Bill Rea

Like most people of my age group, I enjoyed watching the Flintstones as a kid.

I'm referring, of course, to the prime time version, which saw its first run before I was old enough to stay up and watch, not the Saturday morning spin offs that I would never watch. But the show went into reruns and syndication, so I had plenty of chances in the years that followed to see it.

I still enjoy seeing it to this day. If, in the course of my channel hopping, I come across an episode coming out of Bedrock, I'm likely to leave it on and watch it. I'll bet there are a lot of 40-something people like you out there who would do the same thing. It was one of those classic shows that was really geared to adults in a period when sophistication and the ability to express one's self in off-colour language were two different things.

One of my favourite episodes from the Flintstones was the one in which Fred was trying to surprise Wilma with a piano as a wedding anniversary present. The climax has a group of police officers

singing an anniversary song set very roughly to the tune of the William Tell Overture by Gioacchino Rossini.

I was reminded of that when I got home last Tuesday night and my wife told me there was a message on our answering machine from my brother, attempting to sing the same song.

As you have probably gathered by now, last Tuesday was Beth and my anniversary (eight years, for those of you who keep track), but that's not what inspired this writing.

The inspiration came from what I found outside the door.

Beth and I have lived in our house for more than five years now, but we have never found the need for a door mat. One reason is when they laid carpet in the house, there was a large hunk that was left over. We just found it lying on our front porch, and after a bit of arranging, it proved quite functional for people who wanted to wipe their feet before entering (I usually get yelled at if I fail to do that). And since our porch is covered, the mat is partly protected from the elements. It's been there for five years, and it shows little sign of wearing out.

I'll grant this mat is not the most aesthetically pleasing thing in the world to look at. On the other hand, I have always embraced the philosophy that if it works, who cares how it looks? I guess that's why no one has ever accused me of being a fashion plate, not that I ever aspired to be one.

So it was with some surprise that I arrived home last Tuesday night after working late (on my anniversary) and found another mat on our stoop, resting on our makeshift mat. It was obviously purchased, or made by a craftsperson of same talent. The message on the mat was catchy, to say the least: "Go Away."

How many of you have ever come home from a hard, long day at work to be greeted with an unexpected message like that? Be honest!

I started to ponder who could have been responsible. I ruled out any of our neighbours. We're not intimate enough with any of them that they would bestow gifts on us. I knew Beth wouldn't have put a thing like that in front of her house - it's just not her style. I also didn't think it was any of her relations, although several of them live nearby. I was thus quickly able to narrow the list down to one probable and a couple of possible suspects, and this was even before I had conferred with Beth.

Intrigued, I entered the house. My spouse looked up and before she even had a chance to voice a greeting, I blurted out, "So, I gather my brother was over at some point today."

As it turned out, Beth had been thinking along the same lines, although she confessed some concerns that I might have thought she was responsible, trying to send me some subtle message (such thoughts never entered my head). Although members of her family have their fair share when is comes to humour, we can generally agree that any mischief making comes from my side of our union.

I phoned my brother the next morning to put my theory to the test.

"Were you over to our house any time yesterday?" I inquired.

"Why do you ask?" Michael replied, making an unsuccessful attempt to cover up his coyness.

Mystery solved.

Actually, I'm a little surprised that I haven't seen more mats like this in my travels. I would think there are enough witty people in our society to create a bit of a market for them. I recall

seeing a cartoon once of a couple shopping for door mats, with the salesman showing them a number that said "Welcome."

"Have you got one that says 'Buzz Off?'" the husband asks.

Now we have to decide what to do with this thing. On the one hand, I think it makes us unique. I'm willing to bet Beth and I are the first ones on our block to have a mat with a message like that on our porch, which clearly earns us a certain amount of status. On the other side of the issue, leaving something like that out on our stoop all the time is almost an invitation to have it swiped. Few are the people who are likely to make off with a hunk of surplus carpet. But a novelty door mat is another issue.

My personal inclination is to leave it out for all to see. Friends and relations who visit already know us, and probably have some familiarity with what might be called my sense of humour. Others should have the good sense to accept the mat for what it is.

As for those who might be offended, I think the mat says it all.