Examine This

As someone who favors the "examined life" approach to dealing with their time here on earth, I must say that deciphering the raw data can sometimes be a real chore. Here is a sample of the things that are rattling around upstairs from the week gone by.
I was doing some work in a sort of generic middle class neighborhood (in California this means your likely broke because it cost so much to buy your house) when I met Tom. He's a friendly and folksy 70 year old fellow, an Illinois transplant back 47 years . He's a chipper early riser, sans coffee; you know the type.
We were sort of talking about his pleasant demeanor in a round-about way when he offered an example of the alternatives. His neighbor, a nasty curmudgeon, who still harbors ill feelings toward Japanese people due to his participation in WWll, got his comeuppance recently.
It seems his neighbors feelings were a little deeper than perhaps normal for so many years after the fact considering all that has transpired. Tom said that over time he actually ran off his Japanese neighbor with his nastiness, "yeah, they just finally moved because they couldn't take it any longer and it was a shame because they were good neighbors, and they kept there place up real nice."
Well the nasty guy swelled with pride for his deed until last week. It seems that the four young men who bought the house quickly started doing what young men do like party around the clock, play loud music, take up all the parking spaces and not water or mow the lawn. It took a little while but this week Tom said nasty guy came over to complain to Tom about the new neighbors and said, "jeez, I wish the Japs hadn't moved now."
There are a lot of thoughts that come to mind, like maybe a Karmic boomerang coming back around and hitting old nasty one square in the chops. But Tom, being a real decent sort of guy, reduced it to a nice and basic moral level and said he thinks maybe old McNasty might stop hating Japanese, but at least he learned that things could always be worse.
Over the period of a few days it became clear that Tom lived his life by a set of moral guidelines. Right down to making sure that the construction debris was properly disposed of. He said, "this old planet of ours can't take much more abuse."
Now this comes in contrast to another debris disposal situation that came up with another customer. This one is a well off guy (seriously well off) who suggested I drive somewhere and dump his old doors down some street somewhere in effort to avoid the 65 dollar transfer station fee. This is the same guy who earlier said, "the way they fix the tax problem in this country is to figure out how to make guys like me pay their fair share." He is full of self serving ideas and doesn't appear to follow any particular moral code except for his Christan beliefs which seem to dwell on the Book of Revelations and the coming end of the world. Let's just say his strike zone is a lot wider than Toms.
Later on in the week in another well-to-do neighborhood passing temporary signs to a horse show and stuck in a Mercedes and BMW traffic jamb, I was listening to a NPR radio story about a man in Newfoundland who, because the fisheries are so depleted, now catches small ice bergs. (They call them bergie bits!) He then melts them and sells the water to someone in Texas who sells it again for it's purported health benefits for a ridiculous amount of money.
I drove on noticing that the folk in this neighborhood don't own non-purebred dogs and they hire people to walk them. When looking to park I noticed that the trees on side of the street each had a little sign on them that said, "caution trees dripping sap." Taking my lesson from Tom I looked for the good in it and will only say, I guess it doesn't get anymore civilized than that.
Then there was a grand old lady who I do work for who told me more stories about her friendship with Anna Mahler and how she once gave a Judy Collins album to Julio Cortazar who visited her at her (rather unique) home. She also told me about the mother of a woman she knows who scolded Albert Einstein for bringing a lit pipe into her house. She says, "he then childishly snuffed the pipe out in his coat pocket, can you imagine?" with a big laugh.
Back to NPR and a story about a couple who decided to have sex for one hundred and one days in a row and write a book about it. And politics? I didn't even get there. It is an odd life we live isn't it.

How about a Poem

It seems the worst thing you can do when drawing a blank is to amble through the thoughts of those who don't seem to be as stuck as you. In fact it is so corrupting that like television, sometimes I must swear off the internet for a period of time. How long? Until I can see clearly again. For now I'm trying some poetry.

I stayed in
for a pounding rain,
timed flash to thunder
in a hurricane.

Doors ajar
struck with fear,
fury and darkness
move far to near.

Beneath a dinosaur,
path unaligned,
will it touch down
is now the time.

Brilliant light,
fraction of time,
clapping resound,
a foot hit the ground.

Now wait,
and wait more?
Where is
the dinosaur?

But no closer comes
peril this day,
relieved so
that fate had it's way.

The journey over,
pleased how all fared,
I step through the door,
breath the sweet sweet air.