Seeing the Signs.

I was walking to schools with my friend Annie. Because we were not in a hurry, we walked on the far side of the street, which I RARELY do. I looked over and noticed the inspirational shrub message and help felt like I was getting a little nudge from fate: hey, um, live.

So then I kept my eyes open. When I walked up to explore the optimistic hedges, I noticed this tiny placque under a tree:


I really love these placques; I think it reminds me that every one of us wants to leave a legacy, and sometimes we have to depend on other people to help us do that.

On the way home, I saw my favorite sign and wanted to make sure I always had a copy of it:


And then closer to home, but on the same block, I noticed this sidewalk etching:


For a bit I thought, no, ignore it. And then I thought, maybe this is not an angry phrase, but really a reminder. The first time I read Catcher in the Rye, I read it in from about 10 p.m. to 1 a.m. cuddled in my bed in Hebron, ND, not able to put it down. So many things connected to my own observations or expectations at age 14. One thing that I always think of when I see "naughty" words slapped on public property is that moment when Holden Caufield is waiting for his little sister Pheobe at her school and sees the F-word written with pencil on a brick by a staricase. It's dissapointing, and at the same time, a reminder that your world is not your world, your time is not your time. Holden gets upset because someone is willfully exposing young children to words and meanings that their childhoold does not yet need. A reminder. We don't have a choice---every moment we enjoy is passed on to those around us.

So anyway...I picture someone, probably a girl, age 13 or 14, who spies some wet cement while waiting for a bus. Maybe she has a few friends around her. They search of a stick or a pencil and finally she stoops down to write something...anything. But what? Oh, how about 'bitch'? That's cool, yeah...b...i...t...c...h. done. yeah. that looks cool. Let's go.

So maybe when I walk over that word, ride past it on my bike or step on it, instead of a feeling of disgust because people want to ruin someone else's fine cement smoothing job, they're reminding me not to bitch so much. Hey you, are you looking at the ground because you're feeling sorry for yourself? Imitating Charlie Brown? Keeping your face out of the wind?

Yeah, well, stop bitchin. Bitch.