Her concern,
however, was not misplaced. Statistically, short men really do get
short-sheeted in life. They get paid less than tall men. They get less
attractive dates, a poorer selection of clothing styles, and, overall, less
respect. Who ever sang, “Tall people got no reason to live”?
Even the
language sasses the vertically challenged. They get the short end of the stick
(which end is that, anyway?), short shrift, short circuited, and short changed.
Even seemingly positive uses of the adjective have a hidden barb. A short cut
is a better, more efficient way to a goal, but we are often admonished never to
take one, that it’s somehow sneaky or morally suspect to take a short cut to
achievement.
Yes, society is
at times ambivalent about the height thing. Women want to be tall when they are
pretending to be supermodels (at weddings, proms, the Academy Awards) and short
all the rest of the time. Munchkins are loveable short people, although no one
actually aspires to be perceived as a Munchkin.
Indeed, tall
gets the nod in most instances. Confident people walk tall; moral people stand
tall; strong people are tall in the saddle. Yes, you can tell a tall tale, but
isn’t that really a nice spin on lying? I give motivational talks and was once
introduced as a man who “although short in stature is tall in character.” Sorry,
Bubba, I’m short in stature and short in character, just like Harry S. Truman. I
walk short, stand short, and sit short in the saddle, and I’m proud of it.
I fit
beautifully in commercial airplanes, coach class, where seats and overhead
compartments (they really are overhead to me) are made for people exactly
five-foot-four. No one over five-eleven should even be allowed on planes: Sorry,
big boy, you’re oversize, we’ll have to check you into baggage.
I can easily
rinse the shampoo out of my hair using a conventional shower head. I fit in
both a Cadillac and a Miada. My whole body stretches comfortably on an average
sofa or a twin bed. Revolving doors hold no terrors.
I almost never
have to duck.
Yet society
casts its most beatific smile on the tall ones. Take the space program. Back in
the 60’s, they were looking for people to shoot into orbit, to fit into the
tiniest possible area within a tiny container, which they even called a “capsule,”
like it was an Advil. Every ounce was a liability. So, who got to squeeze into
the “capsule”? You guessed it, six-foot-three-inch gorgons from the ranks of
military test pilots. Idiotic, a waste of taxpayer money, the very reason there
is a fuel crisis today.
Whom should they
have chosen? Well, think about it. Cramped space, lots of rocking and weaving
and careening, moving at breakneck speed, confronting sudden and unforeseen
challenges with ineffable calm. Isn’t it obvious where they should have looked?
That’s right, they should have shot jockeys up there. Eddie Arcaro, space hero!
But noooooo! The
height bigots would have none of it. Common sense be darned. Just make the “capsule”
bigger, use more fuel, anything to perpetuate the myth of “The Tall Man.”
And don’t get me
started on greenhouse gases. Every time Shaquile O’Neal exhales, he
contaminates more of the atmosphere with CO2 than the entire Seven
Dwarfs, with Snow White thrown in.
What can we conclude
from all this? I am sure some among you will simply accuse me of having “Short
Man’s Syndrome,” a disease invented by the same people that prescribe growth
hormones for healthy boys who aren’t tall enough to get on the roller coaster. You
know, the folks with Stupid Man’s Syndrome.
What we can
conclude is that good things come in all packages, as do the bad. That
shortness is not inherently inferior to tallness, unless you’re painting walls.
And, if it turns
out your lollipop is on the short end of the stick, celebrate. It’s easier to
reach.”
