Everything must change? Everything? That's the message we're hearing from those who know (I guess). From the skinny guy quite possibly our country's next leader, to the emerging theologians, to the earth-is-flat theorists: Everything must change. Everything? Really? Have we not heard this before? Historical amnesia, we have. The more information there is, the less attention we can pay. We'll run right through stop signs.
Our neighbors are on vacation and asked my son to take care of their chickens, all ten of them: I'll pay you and you can have the eggs each morning. I went with him Monday evening to make sure they were in the "house" and they weren't and we ended up chasing and catching, one by one, all ten of them as the sun slowly said goodbye over the Front Range. They have to be in the "house" at night because of coyotes, canis latrans. I don't think my heart rate went down until sometime in the wee, small hours of the morning. God it was fun.
Folks aren't buying health club memberships or designer coffee or summers on the Sound; they're buying gas and groceries. And possibly buying those with plastic. Layoffs and downsizing abound but the networks are filling us full of Miley Cyrus and anticipation over who'll be the new cast of Dancing With The Stars. Folks also continue to lose their homes in this mortgage crisis. The loss of a home, that clod piece of the American Dream. If a clod be washed away by the sea, how can that not have some impact on the continent, the main, me? The bell tolls as Hannah sings.
My daughter and I drove to the library to return books overdue, always overdue, and a lady in a bronze Cadillac in the middle of our small town drove hell-bent through a four-way stop and realized it about a block away. I saw her brake lights gleam as her head swung around in shock. The other three of us at the four-way stop signs sat in disbelief and judgment. Our books weren't overdue after all, but The Half Blood Prince was checked out. I did find a book of Dickey's poetry for a quarter at the Friends of the Library book sale. Death is always a stop sign away.
School starts back up in a few weeks. Supply lists are as full as ever. Everybody needs new shoes and backpacks. School lunches will be more expensive this year, the first price jump in about five years. The Olympics begin on the 8th. I've yet to see Ledger's performance on screen. Somebody once told me I look like Christian Bale.
We've eaten dinner together every night this week and realized we always eat dinner together. I fear we're in the minority. Hands are held, grace is said; the Beagle waits for crumbs from the master. A front blew in last night and scared the heat away. The air smelled like autumn. John Donne believed it's always autumn in heaven. Seven of the chickens were in the coop last night; we only had to catch three. There are now five brown eggs in the refrigerator. We slept with the windows open, such was the cool. I heard trains all night. And coyotes. Some things don't change, senator.