3/13/24
Newsletter #571
The Crack of Dawn
It’s a beautiful day in my neighborhood. Sunny, clear, 62 degrees; this is the nicest day we’ve had in a while. Given the perfect conditions, I took my standard, 7/8 of a mile walk. Since it was already past 10:00 AM there were no turtles visible in the turtle pond – turtles come out early. They sun themselves on the logs, then as soon as other animals arrive, like swans, ducks or geese, the turtles get lost.
I sing on my walk to prove to myself that A. I have a song in my heart, and B. I can remember the lyrics, which I now often can’t. Still, I do know a lot of lyrics and it’s interesting how the melody frequently gets me to the next verse. I rarely see other people, all of whom are neatly tucked away inside their houses.
I made it up the one slight hill with no problem, then down which was better. I passed the house that has a sunken driveway that is a pool for weeks after it rains. Oddly, they keep a Mercedes-Benz that they never drive parked in this on-again/off-again pool of muddy water. Adding some gossip, the night before last there were four police cars parked there. The cops were speaking calmly with the older man on the front lawn and to the woman, who was seated in the Mercedes. I don’t know them, but I’d say it was a domestic dispute. As I walked past two cops turned to me and I smiled and said, “I’m just a nosy neighbor.” They nodded and ignored me.
Right near there is a house that I’ve photographed, but haven’t been able to truly capture its essence in a picture. It’s just a normal house like all of the other houses, except that it was eight, that’s right, eight, “Keep off the grass” signs. And that’s just in the front yard, I’ve never seen the backyard.
Then I passed the house of the Trump supporter on the corner. I know there are any number of Trump supporters in my neighborhood, but for sure there’s another guy who has a big flag in front of his house that states, “God, Guns & Trump.” I think Trump would resent the billing. I’ve written of the Trump supporter on the corner before. There was already an aluminum flagpole in front of the house when he moved in, so he quickly raised a “Trump 2016” flag, as well as the familiar old yellow, “Don’t tread on me” flag. Though I’ve tried my best to download it from my mind, Trump won that election. Every time I walked past that house for years, its flags proudly waving, I would have a quick, unspoken argument with the occupants in my head, the ones I’d never seen.
Then one day in the summer as I walked by a somewhat heavyset white man came out the front door of the house with a big yellow parrot perched on his arm. I was surprised enough to inquire about the bird, and he told me he’d rescued it from the county animal shelter. He said he had two other parrots. I walked away and we had managed to not discuss politics. And how could you possibly dislike a guy who rescues parrots, for goodness’ sake?
As the election neared, the parrot guy’s flag changed to “Trump 2020,” and luckily Trump lost that one. Before I knew it that flag was replaced with “Trump 2024.” I was aghast – are they already making those? I never saw the guy or the parrot again.
A few weeks ago, it was exceptionally windy. Branches crashed down from the trees all over the neighborhood, including in my yard. The parrot guy’s aluminum flagpole got blown over and snapped off near its base. The flags were on the grass. After a few weeks he removed the flags, but has so far left the pole on the lawn.
A sign from the universe?
Walking is good for the soul they say.
So is rescuing a parrot I suppose.
Keep the 'Cracks' coming.