... a change of perspective ...
April 11, 1999
9:22 a.m.
Lisa and I are working fairly heavily around the house again these days and, among other things, I cut the grass for the first time yesterday. It was a beautiful day. I started at about 10:30 in the morning, and there was a newness about me. The temperature was cool enough to need a sweatshirt, but warm enough that I built up a thin layer of sweat with my work. There was a nice wind, more than a breeze, but not too stiff, you know? The sun was out. We live right across the street from an open playground with a large field beside it where Brigid and I go to throw the frisbee sometimes. [Aside: I think the frisbee may well be physics' greatest contribution to the general public. There really is something beautiful to watching a frisbee float across a field seemingly under its own power.] Cars and vans rolled past the house, the lure of such a great springtime day pulling people outside. Brigid went across the street to swing, and I started the mower. Its roar was throaty and deep, as if it was announcing its intentions to the grass. "I am the king of the yard," I could hear it say. I cut the first swath, enjoying the smell of cut grass and admiring the color it turned as it was trimmed, bright and bold, brilliant like green fire. Soon the bag was filled, and I shut off the engine to empty it. That's when I heard the noise. Machine gun fire from a long way off, riding high on the wind that was stiff enough to carry it all the way from Camp Atterbury. The army was practicing. There are moments in life where everything changes. Like looking at a magic eye, seeing a glob of color for most of the time and thinking it's a work of modern art, then having the image inside suddenly snap into place. Here I am, enjoying a simple day in the sunshine while a few miles to the west there are a collection of men and women going through practice drills. And a couple hundred miles to the east, there is a collection of congressmen that are debating whether to commit these people to action in a small country in Europe. Suddenly I saw Tom Hanks dressed in full bloody battle gear, leaning against a stone wall, looking up at Matt Damon's Private Ryan and saying "Earn this." I saw a video of RFK flashing a peace sign right before he was shot to death. I saw the marble caskets of the Unknown Soldiers, and remembered the powerful silence that surrounds a soldier pacing before them, a loaded M-16 on his shoulder, his boot heels clicking time, 21 steps, turn, and another 21 steps. I looked across the field. Brigid was still swinging, the wind blowing through her hair as she raced forward. More machine gun fire came from the west. It was a very real moment for me. It stole my breath, and I actually thought I might cry. Heck, I'm almost crying now as I relive it. Let's not kid ourselves. This is a very scary time. Remember.  Daily Persistence is © Ron Collins |
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"Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose. Nothing ain't worth nothing, but it's free." Kris Kristofferson & Fred Foster "Me and Bobby McGee" |
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