I saw him, running in the jungle. I heard him: he belted out a prolific call, flying all over the jungle. The animals, apparently, took note. “When Tarzan calls, the Wild Kingdom listens.” When Tarzan would step off a limb of a high tree, his hands gripped on to a rope-vine, and then swing through the trees … it was one of the most amazing things I have ever seen. When I was a kid, I climbed trees quite a bit. But I never, not once, came across a rope-vine! To this day, I am so disappointed that I didn’t get to swing in the trees. At some point, I became aware of other responsibilities / cool things beyond climbing trees. Girls, I realized, were good looking, and they did catch my eye. I appreciated Tarzan because he had a good-looking babe with him most of the time. Jane. That was her first name. I guess her last name would have been “Tarzan”, yeah? (Image from http://old.bfi.org.uk/sightandsound/review/5308)
With Jane and Tarzan living in the jungle, limited income, Jane didn’t have any money to spend on clothes, and that explained the clothes that did not do a thorough job of keeping her warm. I never went out with any girls that were dressed like Jane. If I did, my parents would have found out about it and I would have been in some serious trouble. At some point, I found out that Tarzan is not real. Tarzan was an alias for a gentleman by the name of Johnny Weissmuller. Here’s a thought: Does this look like Tarzan? Sharp looking guy (below), I must admit. But, with all due respect, Mr. Weissmuller, you are definitely … not … Tarzan. Life can be a jungle. And in this jungle, there is no Tarzan. There are no rope-vines to swing on, from tree to tree. I’ve seen some beautiful women, and I am married to one of them. But there is no Jane. And finally, I’m okay with it.