They don’t really mean anything; they’re just numbers. I’ve been thinking and reading about the Civil War. 1865; it’s just a number for something that happened a long time ago. The date helps us put events in order. 1865 comes after 1776; equally unfathomably distant times. I also remember talking with a grandmother in the 1960s when I was young. Grandma was already old. She was so old she was born in 1880. That was striking to me then, because I knew there weren’t any automobiles or airplanes in 1880. Automobiles weren’t really popular until the 1910s. Air travel didn’t happen until the 1930s. She went from no cars and no airplanes to rockets blasting off into space and astronauts in orbit in the 1960s, and the moon landing in 1969; but that’s not the point of this thought. This thought is not about what transpired during her life, it’s about what happened just before. She was born only 25 years, one generation, after the Civil War. That close. In her life she knew, talked to, and lived with people who experienced the Civil War. She was that close to being alive during the Civil War that happened so long ago it’s just a number in a history book. How could so long ago be that close to being within reach?
We turned on the radio news
… and it wasn’t talking about Donald trump. It wasn’t even talking about the U.S. presidential election at all. What a delight. And we had another Wild Kingdom Moment. The hunter and the hunted. No photos; it all happened so fast. We were driving slowly, birding Anzalduas Park, on the south end right next to the river. We passed a minivan driving slowly the opposite direction. At that moment two men, probably in their early thirties, came running down the embankment for the dam approach as fast as they could go, across the road in front of us, and dived into the minivan. That was the dash to safety; to the anonymity of the car. We pulled over to watch the drama unfold. The minivan continued the opposite direction from us. We were no threat, they didn’t care what we saw, but there were at least eight Border Patrol, County Sheriff, and Constable vehicles patrolling the park. Did any of them see what just unfolded? The minivan continued around the loop and was driving north now, at a reasonable speed in a park full of families, about a hundred yards west of us. She was coming up on a four-way stop. There was a Constable SUV already at the stop sign coming the opposite direction, just waiting. She pulled up to the intersection, passing a Border Patrol SUV parked pointed the other direction, and stopped. The Constable sat there at the stop sign and waited. The suspense must have been killing her. It was killing us. She pulled through the stop sign and drove past. The Constable didn’t light her up. He paused a little longer, then continued on his rounds. We watched her continue to the north and out of the park. They made it. As we were driving the rest of the way out of the park, we passed the same Constable pulled over in a different spot. We pulled up next to him and described what we saw. That made him really agitated, but with good humor. “I knew it! I knew it!” he kept saying. “I knew something was up with that car. I was going to pull her over for a traffic stop, but I didn’t.” He pounded on the steering wheel. “I knew it.” That pregnant pause we had watched at the stop sign; it seemed like indecision from that distance; at least close scrutiny. Turned out it was both. These were not likely drug lords we saw running for their lives to the back of that minivan. These were human beings, probably looking for a better life; a chance for a job, maybe as migrant pickers, and maybe send some money home. The Border Patrol; they’re human beings too. They’re doing their job the best they can. They hate to see any get away. This time, the prey ran free.
Isn’t it ironic?
The flood of people from the Middle East escaping to the West, Syrian and other refugees fleeing to safety, are coming from exactly the same part of the world as the people who hate the West the most, the terrorists. In general terms, the people we’re most afraid of are the same people who are looking to us, the West, for a better life.
Alex update
2016 State Gymnastics Competition. Level 8. Steamboat Springs. The videos are a little rough (cellphone) (you’ll have to full-screen them to be able to see him), but his routines are getting smoother; lots of consecutive moves strung together. Parallel bars Pommel High bar Rings There is a release move (already) early on in the high bar routine; both hands off the bar at the same time. That’s a difficult dismount off the parallel bars, and the double back off the high bar is big. That’s the closest he’s come to landing it. The coaches are pushing him past his comfort zone, even adding moves to his routine in the middle of the season. That doesn’t usually happen. He placed 12th overall. We don’t yet know if that will be good enough for him to go to Regionals at the Colorado Olympics Training Center in Colorado Springs in a few weeks. He seems to be gaining momentum right now, so maybe… We’ll report back.
Judy
Gets her garden growing!
And the secret garden too!
Me
I’m training the mandevilla vine to climb.