Segue. This word intrigues me. I heard it for the first time at a meeting. I thought it was spelled segway and looked it up in the dictionary, but since you have to know how to spell a word before you can look up how to spell it, I could not find it until I skimmed around and found it tucked in near the binding.

Segue, spelled segway, is a self-motorized scooter for the busy pedestrian who has no time to walk but enough to hop on a motorized version of a skateboard. Spelled this way, segue is segway. I don’t yet see the relationship between the meaning of segue and a segway, but then, I may be dull. It’s happened before.

Segway as segue means “to make a smooth transition from one item or topic to another”. In music, it is “to continue at once with the next musical section”, so there you have it—segue is a kind of graceful transition, a bridge, a carry-through to another topic.

“Nice segue” served as a wry reminder to me that there was none, as my friend pointed out when I coveted (out loud) a pair of earrings she was wearing when she was discussing the current political climate of their state capital. It’s not that I wasn’t listening, the earrings just grabbed my attention like a cat to a canary. I just pricked my ears and jumped.

My friend tells me they struggled in teaching their son how to move along in a group conversation without getting behind in his own thoughts, then jumping in and scaring everybody with something completely off topic. (She scared herself when she understood how he got there). But she felt it important enough that he learn this particular social skill so that he could come along in his little boat of conversational give-and-take without crashing alone on shore and being left abandoned. He was taught the need for “segue,” an introduction to what he was about to say, or at least an acknowledgement of the topics at hand before sailing forth with his own.

Segue seems to be following me around, leaping out from behind posts and from under tables like leprechauns. Now you see me, now you don’t. I’m wondering if it’s calling me to a transition of my own, a kind of nested segue, drawing me into the heart of a change in my life, or attitude, or maybe, I just need a new wardrobe.

This entry was posted in change, conversation, sailing, segue, segway, spell. Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to Segue

  1. Interesting what life may have in store for you….

  2. Kate says:

    Segway: a mobile device for people to technologically savvy to understand how to walk.May your own segue be graceful and inspire awe.

  3. Anonymous says:

    I strongly identify with your friend and her son. My son has Asperger’s Disorder, it’s a part of the Autism Spectrum family. He, too, struggles greatly with smooth transitions, social and conversational skills, which strongly denotes this disorder. Segue…some days are easy, some are eh, some are difficult. Its like that for most of us at times. Harder for children with Aspergers/Autism. And this disorder is for life, it doesnt go away or disappear. What comes to most so easily is an anxious hardship for others. Im not trying to change my child’s ways, im helping him identify and cope with his frustrations, and share & grow with his special qualities. Somehow he is teaching me how to “learn” him. With patience and love and bumpy roads, we will find that comfortable segue.Great piece DJ, you’ve stirred me to think & express again.Write on,-kimmie (fruit from the tree)

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