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Cogs

Yesterday in the parking lot of the grocery store I closed my door at the exact same time as another car. Do you think that's fate? Or maybe a sign? Maybe the universe is trying to tell me that I'm just a piece of tickertape, part of the machine. And I can try and break out. I can die my hair pink or cuss up a storm. I can live on a platform at the top of a redwood tree, or camp out in an old mining shack. And if I could break out of the mold, the system, then I would just need to be strong in my broken places. Then, would things be right?

There are so many places where there just isn't sense. A senator that doesn't get reelected because he's labelled unpatriotic. Did I mention he was in Vietnam and lost 3 of 4 limbs to a granade? And the guy he lost to? He avoided the draft. It was all very proper, deferrments and a trick knee. What is going on that this is what happens because of spin and media and pictures and sounds? But maybe its a lesson. There must be other ways to be patriotic. Whatever that word even means.

Maybe patriotic isn't all its cracked up to be. Maybe we should think about community-minded people. You know, the people who volunteer for the PTA and work on the boards of nonprofits. Or who volunteer their time and tears to bring TB vaccines to remote areas. Or the person volunteers to teach an adult to read at the library every Tuesday and takes Mr. Robertson to the grocery store since his wife died last spring and she did all the driving. Maybe these are the heroes we should celebrate and we should let go of "patriotic"?

Because these people make us strong in all our broken places.
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