With the procession

I was driving home from the dentist's office this morning when I fell in line behind a funeral procession. I hadn't really intended to follow a hearse halfway home, but there are only so many ways to get from point A to point B and if a funeral procession is in the way, there's nothing to do but follow. This meant driving about half the speed limit, but I wasn't in a tremendous hurry--and besides, if death is the price we have to pay for being alive, then I don't mind showing some respect for the dead by taking my life a little more slowly.

One thing I found a bit disconcerting: as the hearse and the long wagging tail of cars made it slow way down the highway, cars traveling in the other direction pulled off the road in respect. Some of the drivers got out of the cars and stood with their heads bowed while the procession moved past. This is a charming gesture although I confess I don't quite understand it: surely everyone who stops can't possibly know the dead guy, so for whom are they showing respect? For death itself? For the mourners? For me? I was, after all, attached, through no fault of my own, to the tail end of this funeral procession. As I saw these strangers bowing silently in my direction, I wanted to open my window and yell out, "I'm not with them!" But that would be rude. And so I drove on, silently accepting the solemn gestures despite my unworthiness to receive them.

Then we reached a fork in the road where the funeral procession took the road less traveled by while I stayed on the main highway. I'll take the other fork another day, but for now, I have promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep.

News of the world

Tonight on a walk up our country road I saw two snakes, one dead and one living; three aptly-named Giant Puffball Mushrooms; a white tree trunk entwined by poison ivy vines bearing brilliant crimson leaves; a garden plot covered with colorful gourds; paw-paws and buckeyes dangling from trees.

No guns. No deranged gunmen. No murdered schoolgirls. No fear.

Out here in the country we feel safe. There are no metal detectors in the local schools, few locks on the neighbors' doors. We hear talk of thefts and hunting accidents, but murder belongs elsewhere, in the hectic cities and their suburbs. What can hurt us out here?

Today's news reminds us that nobody's safe, and it's news I'd rather not face. Instead I seek news of two snakes, three mushrooms, a pretty tree, a garden full of gourds, and a fruitful forest where violence occurs only among non-human beasts.