Jesus, another huge pause.

And now I'm going away for a little, to New Jersey for a wedding.

I'll be back Sunday night - expect (big surprise, I know) no posts 'til then at the soonest.

In the meantime, I give you a bit of children's book zen, discovered the other night as I was reading to Whit:

FOR EVERY EVIL UNDER THE SUN

For every evil under the sun,
There is a remedy, or there is none.
If there be one, try and find it;
If there be none, never mind it.

The other thing is a thought that occured to me this morning as Lynn & I & Celia & Whit were getting into the van to take Mr. Whit to daycare. I saw a guy walking the sidewalk across the street, carrying a heavy backpack on his back and a heavy briefcase in one hand. I've seen him before and I often wonder to myself what his story is: why is he carrying all that stuff? where is he walking to? where is he walking from? I don't think I was staring, but maybe the combimation of a lack of morning coffee, all those questions and the general uniqueness of foot traffic on my very quiet street so early in the morning led to my holding my gaze upon him for a little longer than our solipsistic society deems appropriate.

Whatever. He noticed my gaze and returned it, staring at me long and hard as he walked by, craning his neck to maintain his glare as he walked past.

Being a good, constantly self-examining liberal, I drove away wondering what I had done wrong and how I could do better in the future.

Before I knew it (I tend to make the sleepy early morning drive to daycare on something like autopilot, which results in some missed turns on a drive I make every day, some general confusion on my part beyond the normal and a drunken blackout like memory of the journey) I was at daycare. Whit & Lynn went in, and Celia & I sat in the care, napping and peoplewatching respectively.

Since I've been walking with a cane for the last few years, I tend to particularly notice people on the street who also carry devices to assist their gait or whose gait seems challenged somehow.

In the rearview, I noticed an African-American young adult male, using crutches to, seemingly effortlessly, glide along the sidewalk. A closer examination revealed empty space where his right leg should have been and a stump poking from his shorts instead.

Things you might expect went through my mind: gee, I wonder how that happened? when did it happen? is he angry? Then the pinball-like machinery of my mind led me to compare him to me: I wonder if he feels self-conscious like I do, to be so obviously different from everyone else. Then I mentally smacked myself on the forehead: Dork! I bet he feels that way ALL of the time, just because of the color of his skin!

I thought again of that fellow, walking through my neighborhood and staring angrily at his perceived scrutiny from me and my shamed reaction.

We all need to worry a little less about what the other guy thinks of us, don't we? I'm not suggesting that we blatantly disregard everyone else, just that we need to worry a little less about what the other guy thinks of us.