Tuesday, May 10, 2016

Cops and Robins

There has been a recent spate of helicopters overhead, which makes me always think, “Attention all personnel. Incoming choppers with wounded, Report to the hospital.”  Sometimes they hover, while the police SUVs zoom by, as if they’re in some type of machismo parade. They boop their sirens through the intersections, briefly pausing to avoid killing innocent citizens on their way home from work. The rescue vehicles have these new sirens that sound like we're having a disaster in Seattle, Brussels and Madrid all at once. Okay. I heard your sirens already. I'm trying to avoid the rocks, because I don’t want my crew and I perish in eel-infested waters.

I've witnessed a couple of road rage incidents recently, that belie that increasing madness of the surrounding society. I was at a nearby park, when a goober in a pick-up truck, and a goober in a crappy SUV starting a slap-boxing match at the adjoining intersection. One of the drivers shouted, "You're going to jail." The amazing thing was that no police were called. It seems that citizens are more hesitant to call the police -- our thugs in blue -- these days. They often escalate the most minor situation, making them escalators and troublemakers, rather than servants and protectors. The police force is a fraternity that has been poisoned by power, and men with power have a habit of really fucking things up. Am I wrong? Tell me I'm wrong.

When I manage to filter out the cacophony of sirens, helicopters, buses and jets, I can hear the wonderful songs of the birds of spring. I noticed last year, as the sun sets, that a Robin with alight upon the top of a nearby evergreen tree and run through an amazing array of melodies that he keeps to himself during the day. Then I noticed that when the clouds moved in and obscured the sun, the robins would start their varied melodies again. I've convince myself that they are trying to sing the sun back into the sky. I have a natural affinity for crows, but my dad once told me that he didn't like crows, because they would tear a robin's nest apart, and consume the babies with relish....maybe a little mustard too. It's a cruel world, especially without condiments.

Walking to work helps me to pay attention to the little moments. I pause to hear the robin's song. I say hello to Sophie, a little black cat, when she is sharing my break spot behind the Lutheran church. I marvel at the cloud formations, only to have my serenity interrupted by a low flying helicopter that then proceeds to hover over the neighborhood for the next twenty minutes. Humans have always had a tendency to disrupt the peace of our natural surroundings, with strip mining, logging, hydroelectric damns, and so forth. All so we can watch some sub-intelligent reality TV show, while sitting in a comfy chair and wearing clothes made by slave labor on the other side of the globe.

[audible sigh]

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