I thought I was being stared at.
Instead, it was the unicyclist coming up the hill behind me drawing attention.
It’s not every day you see a unicyclist ride up to work.
He was REALLY good. Double kudos to him for agility and economics.
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Unicyclist
Sunrise Tunnel
The briefly lived September sunrise tunnel over the crest of Appleby.
Why does the car cresting look like an antique car?
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Finally
Although the actual equinox happened Tuesday, last night was 4 minutes from the literal one. I finally captured all 18 of my solar bottles activating simultaneously. That’s the sun in the corner of my window, illuminating my living room. There aren’t actually any lights on in there.
A Gift
One of my neighbors surprised me with a gift.
It’s a pretty nice fake rat.
I love it.
I foresee many “shouts of joy” resulting from this gift.
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Smart!
I was ambling out of a building today.
“Uncle Richard!” It was a high-pitched little girl’s voice. Looking up, I saw the most precious little girl with brightly colored glasses smiling at me. She was probably 5 years old.
Her mom stopped and softly told her that I wasn’t her uncle.
Looking at me, the mom said that I did look extremely similar to her brother-in-law.
I was going to ask if he was prone to wearing brightly colored glasses, but the little girl spoke again.
“What’s your name?”
“Do you want to play Rumpelstiltskin? I’ll give you 27 guesses.”
This is where it got fascinating.
The little girl smiled. “I don’t need any guesses. Your name is X.”
I know I looked stupid for a couple of seconds. It’s not just that I forgot about my name badge. No one looking at it ever correctly assumes that the big X on there is my name. As far as I can tell, only psychopaths and weirdos have names like mine.
“How do you know that?”
“Your name is in the corresponding space for names.”
I laughed and looked at her mom in surprise. For a child that age, her vocabulary and logical deduction about my name and badge was truly astonishing.
“You are a very smart girl aren’t you?”
“I hope I will be.”
“Say hello to your uncle Richard for me, okay?”
The little girl smiled. “Of course.”
I would say that I thought I might have just met one of our future presidents. But she’s much too smart for that.
PS The picture is one of the talkative and quarrelsome crows that likes to fly by me.
45 Years Later, The Fringe Is Still Here
80s fans all know “Lunatic Fringe” by Red Rider.
Or they think they do.
If you’ve seen the 80s movie “Vision Quest,” you either get chills when the guitar intro riffs right before the drums kick in, or you roll your eyes.
Do you know what the song is about? It’s not love, personal triumph, or sports.
The song came out in 1981 and came back with a vengeance in 1985 with the movie.
The song is about extremism and anti-semitism. Tom Cochrane knew he had to finish the song that night in the studio after he got the news that John Lennon was dead.
It’s an appropriate song for current events.
If you listen closely at the beginning, you can barely hear someone say, “See you on the other side.”
It is an anthem that warns extremists that they are not invisible and won’t win.
We think that the nutjobs appeared from the ether. They’ve always been with us; the ebb and flow of time requires that we periodically remind them there’s a reason they can’t feel welcome in public discourse. I grew up right in the middle of some of the most pernicious racists imaginable. Like most extremists, they lived in a bubble of self-perpetuating hate.
Everyone who studies sociology knows the paradox of tolerance.
Red Rider hid a pointed societal warning right in our faces 45 years ago.
The September Of Flight
Convince me that the September sky isn’t its own territory and beauty.
Tell me I wasn’t up there with them for the briefest moment, changing the most minute angle of feathers to dive like a missile.
It is breathtaking that I can’t explain to other people why the September sky is alchemic to me.
Things must come down.
That’s not the point.
It’s the act of ascension where the magic lies.
Komorezuki
Is the picture a snapshot of dirty concrete or dappled moonlight? Mottled moonbeams is another way of describing it. The Japanese call it Komorezuki.
The shimmering effect results from moonlight or light creating pinhole cameras between the leaves.
Several times this week, I’ve stopped in the dark and watched huge expanses of this effect. It’s almost like two superimposing realities are trying to click into the same space.
I can take a picture of it, but I can’t really capture it, no more than I can descriptively recall why some moments are more vivid than others.
This is just another variation of my Septembers, when the light jumps and slides across the memory markers I’m accustomed to.
I’m 59 and still waiting for the click. When you get older and look back, it’s astonishing how many of the important moments feel like they’re not?
A Story Of Revenge
Because I got up even earlier than should be possible, I walked the dead man hill route and cut south. When I made it to North Street, the number of young people out around 1:30 was ridiculous.
By the time I looped back around and walked a short stretch of Leverett, three different cars had driven by with young men screaming from the windows in an attempt to startle me. It happens a lot. I wish I could tell all these young guys who have obviously been drinking that riding around with the back passenger window open while wearing a backward baseball cap is tantamount to catnip for police.
After I turned on Leverett again, a little white Hondaesque car drove by me slowly. Can you guess? Yet another inebriated young guy leaned out the window and screamed. “Wooooo!”
Even though I was expecting it, I jumped and laughed. The young guy leaned further out the window and waved, laughing.
The car turned on the very next left onto Hazel Street. It’s very close to Leverett. For no reason at all, I walked around the same corner. The Hondaesque car had stopped at the intersection of Hazel and Storer. The brake lights were lit, so I knew somebody was in the car.
I’m pretty sure one of the occupants was either stopping to confirm his membership in the chess club or securing more alcohol. I’ll let you decide which is more likely.
It was at that moment that I realized that Bobby Dean was calling. I walked quickly across the grass and against the trees just in case one of the car’s occupants might see me. When I was about ten feet away, I darted over to the passenger side. Keep in mind it’s about 2:00 a.m.
At the top of my lungs (two feet from the car), I screamed: “WHAT’S UP C*******ERS!”
(You have to use the terminology that young university men are prone to use, not to mention a nod to my dad.)
It turns out that two of the occupants had exited the vehicle when they arrived. Both passengers in the back seat screamed like elementary school girls.
It was as if they moved in slow motion as they overreacted. It didn’t occur to me to run off.
Both of the young guys fortunately thought it was hilarious.
“Be safe and watch out for the Watermelon Man,” I said before walking away, still grinning like an idiot.
PS The Watermelon Man is a fable invented by my dad, Bobby Dean. He’s always out at night and you never see him coming until he wants you to.
.*The picture is of beautiful new buildings recently constructed on the corner of Sycamore and Leverett. I had what should have been beautiful shots of the university skyline, but both turned out to be Mr. McGoo shots.
Saturday
I had a couple of more great moments. Spending the morning watching the multiple hummingbirds jet around was definitely worth it. I have one I nicknamed “Machine Gun” for obvious reasons. It is non-stop LOUD.
I waited until later to take Güino for a walk. As soon as we got around to the back of the building, a squirrel announced his disapproval from on top of my barbecue grill back there. I don’t speak squirrel, but he called my cat every dirty name in the book.
It started sprinkling big heavy drops. Güino danced around and darted back and forth because evidently he decided that he could evade the drops if he just acted crazy enough. He led me on a fast march down the alleyway. And then decided to borrow into the deep pile of leaves close to Gregg. I had to dig him out.
He must have learned a bad lesson from the squirrel because he spent the trip up the stairs onto my landing complaining about the utter disrespect of being made to go back inside.
