Category Archives: Metaphor

Herewith, I lay these heroes to rest

Quarantunes #7

They say, no matter how multilingual one is, in times of stress, we return to our native language. There was much that was lost during COVID-19; but there was also much that was gained. I found freedom of expression in a return to my creative languages. I have learned to share again through music and words via technology. There has been time for reflection on my past – and time to ponder how much of that past I want to take into my future. Welcome to May, 2020! As we begin to come out of our isolation cocoons and venture back into our new normal; this week instead of a piano snippet; I present you an original reading, “I Saw My Hero Fall.”

I SAW MY HERO FALL

I saw my hero fall before my eyes

Gut-wrenched I was because for moment’s pause

I thought utopia had finally come

He was so handsome – understanding – wise

I saw my hero lying on the bed,

his arms entwined; with those of someone else

And though he never ceased to lavish me,

I could not acquiesce – be one of three,

To me, who once treasured his hero heart;

Dead. He is only a man after all.

I found my hero slow to act when back

To back with hardship shared, he shut me out

And I was left in cold and stone, to make

A home for me alone, from sticks and straw

That I myself had faithfully gathered

From the common man, I expect failure,

Not from men to whom I swear my fealty

From the riff raff, I endure rejection

But not from those entrusted with my heart.

I saw my hero fall, beside the desk

A massive falsehood swirling in his head

He had forgotten who he was, who I

Sideswiped by multitude mutinous lies,

Karma of ruthlessness returned to haunt,

And that is why I’m shy of any man,

who trumps my hand at brains, brawn, heart or lust;

I saw my hero fall, and I can trust

In mere men, no more, when gods are needed

I saw my hero fall before my eyes

Gut-wrenched I was because for moment’s pause

I thought utopia had finally come

He was so handsome – understanding – wise

©Cherry Odelberg April 29, 2020

Holding Out For a Hero

How Deep Is Your Love: COVID19 and social distancing

We visit people out of love. We party, we hang out, we have a girls (or guys) night out. We socialize out of love – or at least a strong feeling of like. We fall in love and say such things as, “I just can’t live without you!” We experience the drive and magnetism of lust and mistake it for love. But have you ever loved someone enough to stay away out of love? Loved them enough to resist the urge to be with them? Social distancing is nothing new. Many are experiencing it right now because of the Coronavirus pandemic. Coronavirus = isolation, no hugs and kisses – particularly of those you love best; your grandkids; your grandparents. It is not easy. It means people die alone – or with masks between them-unable to see the last lingering smile of a loved one. Some are torn between two loves of equal claim. Do you visit your vulnerable, quarantined loved one at the risk of bringing the virus back home and shedding it on your school-aged kids? Did you put your vulnerable, quarantined elderlies at risk when you visited them after being in the outside world? Grandma, when you said, “Let them hug me, I’m not afraid to get their germs!” Did you stop to think you might be transferring germs to them? Individualists, do you claim it as your right to go anywhere you wish? Or do you stay away out of love? Empathic Souls, do you defy the social distancing laws currently in place in order to see your loved ones so you can feel better?

Did you stop to think that staying away is the ultimate loving thing you can do?

Social distancing is nothing new. Nor is it a new and sinister conspiracy when government issues temporary social distancing protocol. Consider history: The Spanish flu is notable for several parallels to COVID19. In some cities everyone was required to wear masks. Mask-wearing was encouraged as a fashion statement.

Tuberculosis has rules requiring isolation. Drastic measures are taken when one in every seven people dies. So also in the time of Cholera when removing a community pump handle cut off access to the contaminated water supply. Who would ever think cutting off the water supply was a loving thing to do? Now what kind of a violation of our rights is that? Yet it saved lives. Instructions for the Black Plague have been handily reduced to three words in latin: cito, longe, tarde with the intended message being: leave quickly, go far away and come back slowly.

Staying away and distancing even when you love someone deeply is not a new idea. Examples and tropes abound in literature, history, culture. And yes, it hurts – tears at the very heart of you! Sometimes distance is the only thing that keeps us from causing further hurt or entanglement. Here are some situations to consider:

Leprosy: I grew up on a diet of Third World missionary stories. One that always impressed me was the story of a man who got leprosy. Though deeply in love with his young wife, he divorced her to distance her – to keep her well. She, in turn, went away; finished her medical degree and returned to the leper colony. Thank you healthcare workers!

Grown Child Co-dependence: If not the parents, then the child must distance. Otherwise, unhealthy entanglement and stunting occurs. I know you love me, but do you love me enough to let me individuate and be my own person?

My Best Friend’s Wedding: When you are admirably well-matched with a friend but the two of you know it would be disastrous to wed and your presence in the picture makes it impossible for your friend, business partner, office mate, dancing partner, or project partner, to develop a full romantic relationship with anyone else.

Rocketman: in the 2019 movie, Elton John’s co-songwriter says, “I love you Man, but not in that way.” Dating is a fun activity; coffee an important ritual; intelligent conversation a thing to covet. I have known more than one man or woman in just such a fulfilling cerebral relationship who saw the other growing more serious and- with heartfelt honesty-had to say, “I love you, but not in that way.”

The Lady or the Tiger: Do you love your lover enough to let him or her go in order to save their life? Or are you more like Romeo and Juliet? Tragic for the both of you.

Why do we stay away when we love?

Because sometimes staying away is the ultimate loving thing we can do.

How Deep is Your Love (Bee Gees 1977)

 

Christmas is a Trip Down Memory Lane

She reached out her hand to turn the handle, leaned in to give a gentle push with a shoulder, and plunged her face into the donut hole of the fresh wreath on the administrative office door. Suddenly she was falling, falling down the rabbit hole of memory, back more than three decades, to the Christmas she got engaged. Now that was a Christmas to remember! Who needs mistletoe? Evening after evening spent caressing under the Christmas tree -post Christmas show rehearsals – like a cast party of only two. Promises and proposals and a ring followed. Forgotten were his memories of rocky childhood Christmases; redacted her years of rejection before he entered her life.

Pine, spruce, cedar, fir. It’s beginning to smell a lot like Christmas, everywhere you go. All in all, what we love best about Christmas is the trip down memory lane, the nostalgia of Christmases past, the promise of generosity and good surprises. The hope, the belief, that hard times can be suspended for 24 hours – or 48 – or 12 days-or an entire month.

Some Christmases are so rich we forget the tough times that came before. This season, may you forget the tough times that came after as well! Few of us are granted happily ever after. There will be grief and pain of loss.

Here’s the thing about trips down memory lane. You may savor a good memory one instant and the next moment be rear-ended by grief because that person or those good times will never come again.

Consider: “She reached out her hand to turn the handle, leaned in to give a gentle push with a shoulder, and plunged her face into the donut hole of the fresh wreath on the administrative office door. Suddenly she was falling, falling down the rabbit hole of memory,” And those good times are her right – they are a reality – something that really happened – they belong to her as much as any of the negative realities or rippings and tearings of the ensuing 30 years.

Embrace the memories. Let them enfold and warm you. Choose to engrave that small cameo permanently in your heart. Love it. Savor it. Linger over it. Don’t let all the hardship or misunderstanding of following years dull this singular memory.

Here’s to Christmas and many trips down memory lane!

IMG_4184CherrySunshinepeak

 

 

 

The Combination to Life!

The safe at the office holds the keys – literally – that allow entry to all the other important doors of business and administration. The safe at work is difficult. Complicated. Cranky. To begin with, it has a four-part combination instead of the usual three. Secondly, you have to remember how many times around the block you must drive before you stop at each address. Some days the leaden, ponderous doors open effortlessly on the first attempt. Other days, the store manager is left screaming, “Call the locksmith! Bring me a crowbar! Buy me some steal-toed boots and make it snappy! Better yet, just bring the dynamite!” On those days the lock is twirled over and over and over to no avail, each attempt cleared – erased – to start with a clean page, a blank canvas to try, try again until you succeed. But thirdly – and this is the part you must remember, for this is the combination for life – at each address, you must not draw back. Steady your hand. You must not hesitate not even one-eighth of an inch. No regrets. No retreats. Move forward in confidence.

A Hike and Write Challenge

She threw down the gauntlet in such a casual way via Facebook private message.  “Why don’t you,” she said, “Write an essay like this about our hike today?” Very well. I love to hike.  I love to write. The only problem is, the example she attached is that of a well-known uncategorical naturalist, wilderness lover and advocate. So what am I supposed to say?  “Move over Edward Abbey, I am here to write poetically about today’s hike with another great old broad – a regular rock toucher – a tree hugger – a lover of dirt in the great outdoors and fastidious, clean, professional detail indoors”

Contemporary that I am, I am no Meloy, Childs or Tempest. In fiction, I write about the philosophical struggles of relationships; girl meets boy, nefarious religion tamed, childhood injustices overcome.  Truth is, the best way to ferret out these bits of philosophical thought and what I really think is to take a hike.  Sometimes a stroll by running water, other times rigorous switchbacks on high desert boulders, and still less frequently, a hike with a friend.

I believe that there are semblances between seemingly disparate ideas if we can stand back and see a larger picture.” Terry Tempest Williams

Very well then, I whole-heartedly agree.  I take up the challenge – daily.

Caution: Brain Storm Warning

Stand back everybody. I am having a brainstorm.  Shelter in place, close friends and family.  We never know what sort of cataclysmic result to expect, but one thing is sure; our world will never be the same. Please, oh please, don’t try to stop me or rain on my parade before you have seen the final result of my intellectual fury. In my mind every delectable thought worthy of my attention that wafts its way into my brain needs a thorough analysis and creative planning session to determine the feasibility.  I get excited about planning and analyzing and dreaming big.

Are you tired of cloudy weather on your horizon?  Ready for a change?  Need a breath of fresh air? Here is a tip on seeding the clouds.  Follow up on every interesting opportunity that crosses your path.  Those opportunities are meant to be whether a particular job opportunity comes to fruition for you or not. What matters is what you learn and think and dream while pursing those opportunities.

Recently, I followed up on a career opportunity that some thought was above me and many others thought was a good fit. I didn’t get the job, but I got plenty of professional respect and experience. Guess what? I get to keep every shred of self-awareness and skill learned in the process. Ruminating on that higher level job has opened new levels of possibility right where I am.  More brainstorms. Not only am I richer after a go at it, but my imagination is expanded, my output for my current employment has increased.  I am a better manager, a more innovative employee for having jumped outside the box and visited other options in my mind.

I’m Not Going to Die on That Hill

I’m not going to die on that hill.  Each day decisions are made in the office, in board meetings, in homes.  Not everyone agrees with the final outcome.  Yet, the team must coalesce – get onboard with the program.   In acquiescing, one or more participants may be heard to say, “I don’t agree, but I am not going to die on that hill.” It is the new way of saying, “Choose your battles.” It is the way of peace – maybe even of happiness. I want to live long enough to be happy.

In my previous post, I penned a long-term goal, “I want to die in a beautiful place.” I also conceded most of us don’t actually choose where and when we die.

And so it is with the hill you die on at work or at home.  You may flex over and over, you may be cautious and thoughtful in choosing your battles, when someone takes your coat you may offer up your cloak also. Perhaps you will be effective in choosing which hill NOT to die on. And yet, can we really choose the hill we DO die on? In the end you may die on the hill you least expected – die innocently -by some minor slip of the hand – of someone else.

Nevertheless, I aim to choose my battles carefully, to live in a beautiful place, to work in a beautiful place and ultimately – to die in a beautiful place. 

Mud Writing

This is it.  This is the place. I never pass this way but what I say to myself, “There, that is the corner where you wrote Terry’s name in the mud, hoping it would last forever, but knowing the river would wash your secret away.”

Then again, this may not be the correct location.  Highway 65 does look like the place, but perhaps it triggers a memory of Glenwood Canyon.  Mom, Dad, Me, my Brother -we were on the way somewhere.  To Grand Mesa?  To Denver?  Who knows?  I was so burdened with my desire for that tanned, blond, talented boy, that I took a stick in hand and told my love to the river putty. I wonder, is it rare to feel as strong a connection as I felt at 10?

Puppy Love, they call it.  Infatuation.  Crush. But tell me, do you have a similar story? Has there ever, since that time, been a relationship, a desire so strong, pure that it had to be spoken, admitted, whether anything came of it or not? Is requited, completed love ever as strong as the secret and unrequited?

Perhaps that is what I love most about a sandy beach. You can walk and scribe and tell the world of your love or your pain and then let the tide and the ocean carry it all away and provide a blank canvas.

sandsolstice258582_1962291831306_1137265_o

 

A Precious Journey: Chapter 2

In Chapter 1, My Precious Left Me, Traveler stumbles on a cave and meets the Man.  You can find and read Chapter 1, on the pull-down bar, Precious’ Journey.

Chapter 2: Traveler goes to the city

Now the traveler had become curious to know more about Precious. He was heading through the City anyway, so he stopped at the bakery to inquire if anyone remembered her.

He could hear the chatty voice before he pulled open the heavy glass door. “Yes, it was a trunk showing and everything was half off!  Half off, I tell you! And they wouldn’t take a credit card.”  Obviously, she caught sight of him because she turned away and checked her hair in the reflection. “ Te he. Isn’t that awful?  Well, gotta go.  Someone’s coming in.   You know how Mr. Baker gets if I don’t greet the customer right away.  No, it’s a he not a bride. Call me later.”  She whirled her chair around, and stood, self-consciously smoothing a skirt that would not have been out of place on a high school ingenue – or perhaps just two inches longer.

“May I help you?” she emphasized each word separately.

“Ah, yes.  I hope so,” said the traveler.  “I am looking for information about someone who used to work here – a  woman named Precious.”

“She left her Man.”

“So I heard.”

“I knew him first – before he met Precious.  He was pretty good looking in high school. Hey, but that was 20 years ago. I’ve been thinking about running up to the cave and checking on him – seeing if he needs anything. ”

“Do you know why she left him?”

“I don’t know.  I’m pretty sure it wasn’t any of the reasons I wanted to leave my man.”

The raised eyebrows of the traveler gave her permission to continue.

“No.  Precious didn’t think I had grounds. It was something about tough love. Oh, she listened to me; I mean she listened to me on break.  Precious frowned on girl talk when we were supposed to be working.  Said something about an honest day’s work for wages or excellence and best effort – those kinds of words.  I didn’t get how not talking was honest.  I like to get it all out there. I’m honest about my feelings. She must have been on the side of the boss.  Come to think of it, I think she was in cahoots with the boss. Cause she got the boss man to give me a second chance after I messed up on the wedding cake orders.  She must have sweet talked him something fierce. Anyway, Precious, she says, ‘Phyllis, I talked to the boss.  I told him I thought you would be a fast learner if I took a little time before work each morning to show you how cake decorating and ordering work.’

So, I asked her, ‘how do you know all that?  About sugar cane and powdered sugar? And white cake flour coming from wheat?  Did you learn that because of your man being a horror culturalist?’  She said she learned all that – that she learned how to cook and how things work when she was still living at home in high school. Can you believe it?  She actually cooked while she was in college. And, she baked bread to earn money while her man was in grad school!  That’s how she landed the job at this bakery.  I guess she even did a wedding cake for one of her friends.”

“Did you say the husband of Precious went to grad school?”

“Yes, that’s what he did.  In high school, he always wanted to be a botanicalist.  But then he changed his mind and became a horror, horror…” “Horticulturalist.” prompted the traveler.

“Anyway, but, he didn’t finish.  At first, I thought Precious said he didn’t finish grade school.  I knew that wasn’t right on accounta me knowing him in high school. She explained to me the different levels of schooling.”

“So you met Precious at this job?”

“Hey, it is just about break time now! I’m really glad that phone hasn’t rang while we were talking.  I’ll take a smoke break even though I don’t smoke. But you could buy me coffee. I don’t have any money – my man took away my debit card – but you can buy. You don’t mind, do you?  He didn’t say I couldn’t drink a latte, he just said I couldn’t buy more than one a week.”

“And ya know,” she said, patting the traveler’s arm. “It would be good for me to be seen with you. I wouldn’t mind, not one little bit.” The traveler acquiesced.

Tall latte. Short iced mint.  The traveller collected them from the counter and sat down in the moulded booth across from Phyllis.

“So, you don’t think Precious left her man for the same reason you wanted to leave yours?”

“Nope.  No way.  My man took away my Old Navy and Macy’s charge cards!”

“You don’t say.”

“He told me I had to quit shopping and start cooking.”

“You didn’t cook?”

“Are you kidding? I went to secretary school.  I know how to type. I was trained about proper office at tire. Then, of course, I have to have something fun to wear when I’m not at the office.  We go to baseball games on the weekends. So I was always busy shopping the sales for the best deals. I didn’t have time to cook.  I work so I can shop. After the stores close, I stop for carry out on the way home.”

“Your husband got tired of carryout?”

“Yeah, I thought that was the real reason.  I think he was trying to control me into coming home after work and cooking dinner. He said it was because I had charged more than I made that month. My Old Navy card was maxed out.  He said he had paid my store cards.  But if they were paid, what’s the harm in me shopping?  I think he just wanted a homestyle meal.”

“So, he took your charge cards and insisted you come home after work and cook?”

“Can you believe it?  Always before he was okay with having dinner late.  He didn’t get home until nine anyway because he was working an extra job. I was ready to leave him.  Next day, I was asking around work for a roommate. Then me and Tiki and Precious went on break.  Tiki, she’s the one that got me this job in the first place.”

“So you met Precious at this job?”

“Well, yeah, we came at the same time, but, I really got to know her better when they were going to fire me.”

The traveler raised his eyebrows quizzically.

“Hard to believe, isn’t it, since I had been to secretary school?”

The traveler nodded just enough to nudge her forward.

“It was the wedding cakes.  I still don’t see why they should be so expensive.  I was just trying to help out the brides.”

The traveller murmured appropriately.

“The wedding cakes, you know, with three tiers? Well, they are three or four hundred dollars.”

Again the traveler nodded.

“But, on the next page over – it’s the third pull down tab on the website – there are all these cakes separately. 6” two layers for $10.  8” for $12.00.  10 inches for $18.00 and that big one on the bottom?  only $30 bucks for the round one or $35.00 for the square!  So, this one bride came in, and she was really on a budget, poor really.  And I added up the total and was telling her to buy them all separately for under a hundred dollars!”  She laughed.

“Did they have frosting on them?”

“Now how did you figure that out?  Are you a baker? That’s exactly what Precious explained to me.  I don’t know how she did it, but Precious knew how to do just about everything. She could type and she didn’t even go to secretary school. She could write the wedding cake orders and she wasn’t a baker.”

“So, Precious was pretty smart?”

“Yeah, Kiki said she was fastididus, fastdious,

“Fastidious?”

“Yes, only in a good way, not a bad way.”

“So, Precious thought it wasn’t a good idea to leave your husband?”

“Not Precious and not Kiki.  Kiki said you’re just supposed to stay together no matter what.  Marriage is for life.   The only reason you should leave your husband is if he hits you or if he is, you know, having an A-fair with someone else.”

“Many people feel that way.”

“Precious said it sounded like maybe my husband was doing an invention, an indevention,”

“Intervention?”

“Yeah, that’s the word, tough love or something.”

“He paid off your cards?”

“Yep.”

“And then he said you couldn’t use them anymore?

“Yep.  Boy, was I mad. I said I wasn’t going to live anymore with a man that mean.”

“What did Precious say about that?”

“She said maybe he really did love me, cause after all, he paid off my charge cards.  She said maybe he just wanted to get my attention about overspending. I said I didn’t see how taking away my charge cards was loving.  She asked did he give me some grocery money for the cooking.”

“Did he?”

“Not any cash!  All he gave me was a grocery card with two hundred dollars on it.

A grocery card! Just thinking about it made me so mad I started bawling again. And then Precious said, she said it was a waste of energy to cry.”

“So Precious didn’t show any sympathy?”

“She said, ‘why cry when you can do something about it?’”

“Did she want you to get back at him?”

“She said I should do an experiment.”

“A science experiment?”

“Yes, sort of.  She wrote me instructions.  Go to the Grocery store.  A list of things to buy. How to mix the ingredients and put them in the oven.  There was supposed to be enough for that dinner and some left-overs for my lunch the next day.”

“Did you do the experiment?”

“Yes, and I gotta say, it tasted real good. My man thought so too.  ‘You did good babe, real good,’ he said. He said he was proud of me.  He called me his little kitten. Then he told me some other things that would make you blush if I repeated them.  And we, well, we kissed and made up.”

“So, he wasn’t being mean after all?”

“Naw, he said he was sorry he had to take my charge cards and I couldn’t have them back, but he would try to make it up to me by adoring me,” she giggled delightedly.  “So Precious, each day she wrote me an easy recipe.  She told me I could still keep on shopping as long as I did it in the grocery store.”

“So, you said Precious didn’t ever cry when she could do something about it?”

“I only saw Precious cry just that once.”

The traveller raised his eyebrows.

“It was that same week.

We were on break again and Kiki was saying how married people should always stay together no matter what. She started telling a story about how her parents stayed together. And Precious, she acted really funny.”

“Did Precious agree with Kiki’s story?”

“No, I don’t think so. But, I didn’t really get why Precious was crying.  It was just a story, something about a man who ate and ate.  It reminded me of the joke where the doctor tells a man to watch his weight and the man says, ‘so I just got my weight out here where I could see it,’ he he.”

“So, a story about a fat man made Precious cry?”

“It was Kiki’s dad.  He got fat while her mom was getting thinner and thinner.”

The Traveler tipped his head to the side and waited.

“Kiki was home-schooled.  That way her mom saved a lot of money on clothes. They were poor so her mom cooked a lot of beans.  Kiki says her mom was a self sack official for the kids.”

“Self-sacrificial?”

“Yes, that’s it.  So Kiki’s mom just ate a little bit and she divided the rest between the kids and made sure there were lots of beans in her husband’s lunch.  Later on they found out Kiki’s dad was just going to McDonald’s and buying himself a hamburger for lunch after he finished the beans.  Then, at night, he would run errands and buy himself another hamburger.”

“He was starving his wife and kids and getting fat himself?”

“Yes.  Isn’t that awful?”

“What did Precious say?”

“That’s what was so strange.  ‘Cause Precious, you know, she’s the one who says, ‘There’s no use crying over something if you can do something to fix it.‘  She was crying. Without making any noise.  The tears were just running down her cheeks.

”And then she said, real quietly she said, ‘I think neglecting someone to the point of starving them while you got fat – might be a good reason for leaving.” Kiki and I both stared at her.  Then she stood up because it was time to go back inside.  And she said something else, but it sounded like maybe she was talking to herself.”

The traveller leaned forward attentively,

“Do you remember what else she said?”

“‘It’s not always about food. There are other ways to starve a person.’ What duya think she meant by that?”

The traveler stroked his chin thoughtfully, and rose.

“Say, it’s about time for me to get back to the office.  Would you mind getting me a refill? One for the road, so to speak.”

He walked Phyllis back to the stoplight, saw her safely across the street.

“One more question,”  he said.

“Do you think Precious left her man to become a Goblin Princess?”

“What?  Precious?”  she sputtered.  She tossed her head coyly, “Well, now, I might think of becoming a Goblin Princess – ‘specially if someone was to give me all the gold and jewelry I wanted.  But Precious?  What would the men see in her?  Precious is more steady and self-sackaficial like Kiki’s Mom – only she dresses nice.”

Note:  in Chapter One, the Man accuses Precious of leaving to become a Goblin Princess.  You can read the first chapter by choosing, Precious’ Journey from the tab at the top of this page.

 

Why did the rabbit cross the road?

There is a cottontail that lives under the spreading Utah juniper tree in my front yard. I use the term front yard loosely. The area surrounding my little adobe house is high desert and unimproved but for a bit of arranging of the rocks and stones that litter the hillside. Also, the rabbit probably lives in a winding warren under the yard, but is only visible coming and going beneath the tree.
I consider this rabbit my pet of the most convenient kind. No muss. No fuss. I simply throw my apple cores out the door and enjoy the furry little rodent scavenger at dawn and dusk. Is there only one? Have you ever heard the cliche, “multiply like rabbits?” Who knows how many? I have seen three at the same time before; two fighting and one watching demurely from the shadows of rabbit brush bush.DSCN5000rabbits

Last spring, there were tiny bunnies peeping from rocks and shade along every trail I wandered in a one-mile radius. It was a year when rabbits were plentiful and coyotes few; though I had see a couple canis latrans skirting the property but 12 months previous.

My house sits more than 100 feet back from the road and overlooks an arroyo. In order to get to work, or the grocery, I must descend a winding mile down a road once gravel and known as “Jacob’s Ladder,” but now a paved artery that connects the main city to communities further up the mountain. This fall and winter, the road has been a killing field for rabbits and a buffet for scavengering ravens. Food is not in short supply. I may be the only one who sows apple cores, but horse barns populate the neighborhood. There is hardly a need for cottontail or jackrabbit to stray from home turf. Most of the rabbit roadkill has been near the corrals, where the proverbial grass is greener on both sides of the road. Last week, there was a bunny carcass much closer to home.

“Why do the bunnies cross the road?” I ask again, “When they have everything they need on their own side of the tracks.”