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Making Waves

A definition of the word “wave” according to the American Heritage Dictionary is: 

• “To make a signal with an up-and-down or back-and-forth movement of the hand or an object held in the hand.”

When I was about twelve years old, my father said something to me to which I decided to reply with a simple hand wave. You know the kind, A downward flick of your fingers, the one you would use for “It’s not important” or “Don’t worry,” which was what I meant to say, though it could have also been interpreted as “go away.” To my father, it meant none of those; he was furious with me and probably would have slapped me for being so impertinent. Little did I know that where he grew up in Germany, that hand signal was the equivalent of giving him the finger using present-day hand gestures. 

Hand waves have many meanings, depending on who is the sender and what the intent is. 

A wave of the hand from side to side can mean saying goodbye or greeting someone or a location beacon to specify where you are to someone farther away. 

A sideways back-and-forth wave when you are in a car and stopped might indicate that it is okay for a pedestrian to pass, with a promise that you won’t run them over. (Note that not everyone uses this signal. My wife, for example, uses a front facing palm-up hand held still for the same intent.)

Traffic police or school crossing guards use a variety of hand motions to control traffic. For example, holding one hand facing you and continuously curling and uncurling fingers signals one can move forward or cross the street if you are a pedestrian. A palm-facing hand or hands held up towards you with no motion definitely means to stop.

Military and Aviation signals involve waving hands, flags, or flashlights to communicate instructions or commands.

Sometimes, you only use one finger or two, whether it be the thumb pointing up or down at the end of a closed fist to represent approval/disapproval, two fingers representing the letter “V” can mean victory or peace, or a single finger, usually pointed up usually is a scolding, a reprimand, or just a strong opinion of a person, or their ideas. These sometimes get responses similar to yours in intensity right back to you. 

Raise your hand in a restaurant with a two-finger wave to signal you want some attention, perhaps a check or food. It could also mean, “Are you ever going to take my order and serve me?” A displeased facial expression usually accompanies this. 

Fluttering your fingers in a wave might be construed as flirting, depending on who receives the wave. 

If you were trapped on a desert island as a plane flew by or a ship was within view and you vigorously waved both hands over your hands, that would be a clear signal (if you were seen) that you needed help.

In sporting events or celebrations, waving hands can signify encouragement, support, or enthusiasm. In fact, at some events, fans standing up and down sequentially and waving their hands up and down can as the stand and sit represent a different kind of wave, an ocean wave.

Sign Language involves another use of hand waving. Many different signs signify words and phrases using hand movement and position. Some American Sign Language (ASL) examples include the signs for hello, goodbye, come here, go away, yes, wind (the blowing kind), applause, airplane, thank you, and wave. Be careful if you attempt to use ASL in another country. Not all sign languages use the same signs. A sign that means one thing in America might mean something totally different in a foreign country, as did the one I used on my father, what I thought was a simple hand gesture. 

Some exaggerated hand waves, in certain contexts, can even be considered mockery or ridicule of a person, their beliefs, or their individual lifestyle. These are the worst, in my opinion, and say a lot about the individual using them if their intention was deliberate.

With all this in mind, and a lot more that I don’t want to take the time to discuss, be careful and thoughtful whenever you make waves. Ensure your wave’s intent is communicated correctly to the person you’re waving to. And use them positively, PLEASE.

I leave you with some quotes about how some wave-making wasn’t quite received as intended, though in a comical way.

“I’ve waved at people I thought were waving at me, only to realize they were just scratching their heads or swatting flies.” – Steve Martin, American actor and comedian

“I made the mistake of waving at a squirrel once because I thought it was a person. I need to get out more.” – Zach Galifianakis, American actor and comedian

“I waved at a garden gnome in someone’s front yard thinking it was a small child. I need to get my eyes checked.” – Aziz Ansari, American actor and comedian

“I once waved to someone I thought was my friend’s mom, but it turned out to be a random woman walking her dog. She seemed very confused.” – Tina Fey, American actress and comedian

“I waved at a guy I knew, and he didn’t wave back. Turn’s out it wasn’t him.” – Mitch Hedberg, American comedian

“I waved at a painting in a museum once. That’s when I knew I needed a break from art appreciation.” – Demetri Martin, American comedian

“I’ve accidentally waved at trees swaying in the wind more times than I care to admit.” – Nick Offerman, American actor and comedian

                                      Bye—>

The Pink Cat

I started getting phone calls about the cat before the ink even dried on the letter I had composed. 

“So I hear you found a pink cat,” the caller asked.

“How did you find out?” was my reply.

“Why, in the paper, of course. Where else would I have seen it?” she announced as if I should have known that.

“But I haven’t sent the letter to the paper yet,” I said, confused.

“I’m sorry,” she quickly responded. “I must have the wrong number,” she said, then hung up.

The next phone call was even more baffling. “Allo, I heer you are luking to get rid of pink cat,” a voice said with a distinctive foreign accent.

“How did you find that out?” I questioned suspiciously. 

“I reed in paper, Da.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, “you have the wrong number.” And I hung up. 

This continued for many minutes. Each call was more bizarre than the last. All of the callers seemed to know about my finding a pink cat and my desire to find its owner or a suggestion of where I could bring it. And I had yet to notify anyone. 

It was then that I heard the knock at the door. 

Looking through the peephole, I noticed a man and a woman standing there. The man was tall, wore a dark black suit, and had sunglasses on, which was odd since it wasn’t sunny outside. The woman, a little shorter than the man, wore a dark pantsuit, which went with her dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. She didn’t wear sunglasses, but her eyes were well-focused, looking everywhere, surveying the area in front of my house. Both were well built as if they spent most of their life in an exercise training program. They both wore earpieces, and it seemed they were communicating with someone other than each other. 

“Who’s there?” I asked. 

The woman flashed an ID in front of my peephole for me to see as the man stated, “We’re from Homeland Security.” Her ID was replaced by his. “We need to speak with you about your cat.”

Slowly, I opened the door as they pushed their way past me and told me to shut the door and lock it. 

“It’s not my cat. I just found it. What’s this all about?” I asked rather nervously.

“I’m sorry,” said the woman, “but that is classified. We just need to ask you a few questions, and then we’ll gladly take that cat off your hands.”

I was stunned, not knowing what to say. 

“Where did you acquire that cat?” the male agent asked.

“I found it nosying around my garden. Since I couldn’t chase it away, I managed to pick it up and brought it inside until I could decide what to do with it.”

“Weren’t you surprised about its color?” asked the female agent.

“Sure I was. I figured it was someone’s special cat. Either they must have dyed the cat pink, or it was a unique mutation of a normal colored one.”

“Interesting,” the man replied. “Did you tell anyone else about it, or did anyone else see it?” 

“Not that I know of. I’m kind of isolated here and don’t have many friends.”

“Has anyone else called you and asked about the cat?” the male agent continued.

“Yes, in fact, there were a number of calls, which didn’t make sense, as I hadn’t posted the letter I wrote to the papers yet.”

The female agent jumped into the conversation. “We’re just verifying if you’re telling the truth. We know about the letter and your phone calls.”

“But how? I never even sent…”

“That’s classified information; Need to know only, and you are not considered one who needs to know.” 

That ended the conversation. Both agents had received the answers to the questions they were looking for.

 I had to sign a Non-disclosure agreement stating that if I shared anything about the cat or this meeting with anyone, public or private, I would suffer some life-threatening consequences. 

The female agent picked up the cat and petted it—at least, that is what it looked like. Whatever she did, the cat went limp in her hand after the petting. 

I noticed the male agent hanging around my desk. He picked up my phone and examined it. He turned his back to me and appeared to be doing something with the phone before he put it back on my desk. I then watched as he picked up the pen I had used to write my letter and replaced it with an identical one. I was wise enough not to question his actions. 

After a quick survey of the room, both agents left with the now limp cat, and I was left alone to try to piece together what had happened. 

Sci-fi images of alien cats, or spy cats, with Homeland Security agents or Area 51 agents taking these cats apart to discover some dastardly plot against the United States or Earth, passed through my mind. 

Nah, that can’t be it. Can it? Maybe I shouldn’t have written this story.