Tuesday, May 4, 2010

Several years back, the foothills a half-mile from our home suffered extreme fires, two years in a row that obliterated every sign of vegetation on the entire mountain range! The second year’s fire had flash burned across the mountain so suddenly and with such intensity, that the wildlife, regardless of their normal inclinations to fight or eat one another, attempted to seek refuge and laid down together in a stream that runs through the area.

The devastating loss of animal life in that fire was so extreme, that officials were called in to remove the bodies. Unfortunately, we live next door to where the staging area was set up for that task. It took almost a week of trailer after trailer being piled with carcasses before the gruesome job was finished. During that time, there wasn’t a single day I didn’t cry over the loss of wildlife, our mountains forever being altered and over the grim looks upon the faces of the officials charged with that task.

I’ll never forget the shell-shocked looks on their faces. They closely resembled those of soldiers fresh off a bloody battlefield. I spoke to some who told me that they’d never seen anything like it—bears, foxes, deer, snakes, coyotes, hawks, squirrels, etc., laying down in the water side-by-side, charred into a gruesome solid mass.

It took me almost a year before I could actually bring myself to traverse those mountain trails after the second fire. Every time I’d try sooner, I’d make it as far as the head of the trail or perhaps even to the oak grove with the stream where the majority of the animal bodies had been found, before I’d burst into tears over the tremendous loss and have to turn back.

Many of my friends felt the same, and we decided to tackle getting back on the mountain as a group. And so we set out on walks together.

If you tune in tomorrow, I’ll share the bizarre behavior we came across from one species that returned to the mountain after the fires.

Monday, May 3, 2010

Foresight. What amazing tool that, if used properly, can radically simplify our lives. So often in our hectic schedules and in our quest to get things checked off our to-do lists, we make hasty decisions that end up having unpleasant consequences. These complicate our lives.

We should take extra time to look at the big picture to foresee what consequences our actions might create before acting. Doing so takes very little effort and can help us avert anticipated difficulties. In the end, the time and energy we expend thinking through all possible scenarios, will save us a wealth of grief.

Everything boils down to the decisions we make. And yet many are led to believe that it’s what they do versus what they decide that has the greatest impact. Not so. Taking a few extra steps while deciding what and how to do things is the sign of a profound person, for they are the ones who are able to avoid those unpleasant difficulties through right action that comes from having looked at a situation from all angles before acting.

Think about how much time could be saved if we were able to skip having to mop up mess after mess and repeatedly backpedal due situations born from hasty decisions.

Foresight. Makes sense to me!

Sunday, May 2, 2010

I went for a long walk yesterday up where we live. There were kids dressed up everywhere, as it was prom night. One group had chartered a luxury bus to take them to and from the event. As it passed me, all sleek and black, I recalled a good number of years back to an encounter.

We lived in a neighborhood very close to where a famous rapper had their house. Well, one of them—the main residence. We could always tell when they were home, because on either side of the porte-cochere sat two enormous men who looked more like massive tree trunks than mere men. These were the rapper’s personal bodyguards. And there they sat every hour of every day on metal folding chairs whenever the rapper was in.

Guess the rapper didn’t want the guards to get too comfortable, thus the metal folding chairs.

The other way we could tell if the rapper was staying at home, was when we’d see their forty-foot sleek black diesel-pusher motor home pass by the front of our house on the way to theirs. And an armored truck that carried their jewels and money always followed the diesel-pusher. Following that was a large van with bodyguards.

Quite exciting when the rapper came to stay at their house.

Anyhow, although it’s not uncommon for us to have celebrities living amongst us in our town, it is certainly not the norm to have such high-profile ones, and those who do live here tend to keep a low profile.

Not the rapper.

Residents began getting upset that this person had landed in our quiet town and stirred things up. But I took a different approach. I firmly believe that to each their own. And as long as the rapper behaved, then I saw no problem with them being here. That is until….

Quite a bit of chaos and drama was circulating around the rapper along with a lot of “outsiders” visiting our town and our very neighborhood, trying to discern exactly where the rapper lived. All of us kept our mouths shut, hoping the interest and dram would go away.

It didn’t.

Things escalated and escalated until one night, I happened to be up quite late.

I admit I’m a night person.

As I was turning out the lights in preparation to go to bed, the rest of the family having turned in hours before, I saw the street illuminated in front of our house, indicating the approach of a car. What I heard next sent chills down my spine.

All of a sudden, the unmistakable sound of nonstop gunshots rang out!

Crap! Here?! In my sleepy little town? No way!

As the car passed by the front of our house, the sounds continued. I hit the ground and crawled as quickly as possible to the nearest phone. Then, for the briefest of moments, the sound of gunshots stopped before resuming as the car passed.

Holy shit! That’s an automatic and they just reloaded!

I had the hardest time dialing 911, my hands shaking so badly. I had no idea where the gun was being aimed and wasn’t sure if stray bullet would pass though our house any minute. I finally got the number dialed, and an operator came on the line, asking the nature of my emergency. I said, “A car just passed by the front of my house, firing an automatic weapon.”

The woman chuckled.

Chuckled? I could kill her!

She calmly explained, “Now, I’m sure what you heard wasn’t gunfire but just a car backfiring.”

A car backfiring? Is she serious?

I steadied the frustration in my voice and tried again. “Ma’am, I think I’d know the difference between a car backfiring and rapid gunfire.”

“Well, they do sound awfully similar,” came her calm reply.

It was then that I realized I’d have to take things up a notch and said, “I understand that, however, with all due respect, ma’am, when a car backfires, it does not stop to put in another clip before resuming backfiring!”

There was a lengthy pause on the other end. Just about the time I was going to ask if she was still there, the woman said, “I see. Can you please tell me where the car is now?”

Thrilled I’d gotten through to her, I explained that the car had driven around the block and was now driving the length of the cul-de-sac behind our house, still firing their weapon.

“We appreciate your call,” the operator said. “We’ll send units right up!”

Thank God!

To the best of my knowledge, no one was hurt with that incident, though it was certainly the talk of our town for quite some time. And it was shortly thereafter that the rapper decided to take up full-time residence in one of their other homes—in a different city.

Praise be! And good riddance!

Saturday, May 1, 2010

Entered the freeway this evening with my youngest son and daughter in the car with me. In front of us was a semi, one of those ones that carry tons of gravel in funnel-shaped containers, the bottoms of which open so they can dump the rocks.

There was traffic on the road, so I wasn’t able to jump over a lane or two, as I would have liked.

Hate driving behind those trucks!

Barely had a chance to get caught up to speed and pull up behind the gavel truck before I found myself in a hailstorm of bits of gravel flying out from the truck and pinging its way all over the highway, my car, and yes, my windshield!

As I was surrounded by traffic, I couldn’t get over. All I could do was slow down to create some distance between the offending truck and my car. As I waited for an opening to move over, I glared at the back of the truck and at the two chunks now taken out of my windshield from his free-flying rocks!

By this point, all three of us in my car were on high alert, and my daughter was determined to get the license plate number of the idiot truck driver, so completely unaware of the driving hazard he was causing. While she strained to see the numbers on his grungy truck, I did my damdedest to pull alongside him while trying to avoid further damage to my car from the still free-flying gravel.

We did get his license number and then got as far away from the truck as possible, me noticing other drivers going through the same maneuvers as I just had. As we passed the truck, I glanced up at the driver—clueless.

What an idiot!

Anyhow, we’re all fine. Can’t say the same for my poor windshield or paintjob. Apparently, I’ll be putting in a call to my insurance company first thing Monday morning.

Have no doubt quite a few others will be reporting that dumb truck driver right along with me. I mean what’s up with that? Don’t the drivers have to make sure the latches on the bottoms of their trailers are secure before driving? Common sense would make it seem so.