Dozer, the bulldog

Dozer, the bulldog
Dozer: Spring training is upon us!

Backstage at Reggae on the River, 2017...

Backstage at Reggae on the River, 2017...
The author of Mark's Work

Hollyhocks

Hollyhocks
Why I grow flowers

HappyDay Farms bees are happy bees.

HappyDay Farms bees are happy bees.
Air-borne bees

HeadSodBuster and BossLady at the coast

HeadSodBuster and BossLady at the coast
Love is the greatest power.

Beauty abounds!

Beauty abounds!
Crossing the Eel River at French's Camp

If you've seen one butterfly, you've seen 'em all, said no one ever.

If you've seen one butterfly,  you've seen 'em all, said no one ever.
Butter in the fly...

July Jewels

July Jewels
Bees to the Kingdom

My souvenir from Reggae on the River, 2017

My souvenir from Reggae on the River, 2017
Something I have always wanted...

Mahlon Masling Blue

Mahlon Masling Blue
My friend and brother.

Mark's E-mail address

bellspringsmark@gmail.com

Wednesday, January 25, 2017

More of a Crawl


More of a Crawl

I began a post the other morning by writing, “I stepped outside my comfort zone, Saturday afternoon in Sacramento, while marching in support of human rights, and it turns out that I was in good company.” 

“Stepping out” is stretching matters to a degree, because it was more of a crawl, but hey, who’s quibbling? The reality is, what I accomplished on Saturday surpasses any other endeavor of its nature, that I have ever experienced.

And what sort of “endeavor” might that be? I conquered my fear of being surrounded by so many people that I could not see “freedom” in any direction. If you are even remotely familiar with my mental makeup, you will know that I am claustrophobic beyond comprehension, particularly when it comes to being in the midst of a mass of humanity.

I can not even attend baseball games at AT&T Park, any longer, certainly a most benign of environments, when it comes to packing more than 40,000 folks into the same venue. At the yard, each fan has a designated spot; not so on Saturday, in Sacramento.

We knew this going in, Gluten-Free Mama and I, and we had carefully constructed a plan of action. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement, because there were some things I could provide for her, that made it a push, when it came to balancing the almighty scale.

There was never any hesitation after GF Mama had determined last November 18th, the day after she saw the announcement for the Sacramento Women’s March, that she wanted to attend this particular venue. She searched the net for a reasonably-priced motel in downtown Sacramento, settling on the Quality Inn, at $123.00 per night.

Without even having to think about it, she went ahead and made reservations for both Friday night, so that she could be there when Saturday morning dawned, and Saturday night, so that she did not have to worry about making the four-and-a-half hour drive home, after marching all day.

In this manner she could park the truck upon her arrival, and never move it until departure time on Sunday morning, walking everywhere. Needless to say, one of the perks of this particular motel was free parking; on the other hand, the homeless man sleeping just inside the concrete structure from the street, probably did not pay anything either.

Still, the gods must have been beaming upon her as she selected this particular mecca in the chaos that is the city. True, it was only minutes from the capital building, and therefore within easy reach of the starting point of the march. She knew that much; but it turned out to be so much more.

I only noticed the homeless man because we were on the third floor, of a three-story motel;

in a room on the end of the third floor, closest to the street, farthest from the office;

with a balcony across the front, and turning ninety degrees away from view…of anyone, leading to steps down to the street;

with inclement weather practically the whole time, discouraging others from also being out on the balcony;

looking out across the street at an empty parking lot;

Paradise with an ocean view, if you have had past issues with trying to take your meds, in the form of a doobster. Lots of past issues. 

Even without this knowledge, when Gluten-Free Mama informed me of her plan, and the steps she had already taken-way back in November-I was immediately intrigued. I had been posting political hit-pieces on the new administration, practically since the absurd notion of trump running, popped up. I particularly remember one comic strip from Don Asmussen’s Bad Reporter in the Chron.

Would GF Mama like some company, I asked? Driving over to Sacramento could be problematic, should it happen to be snowing at that time. [Editor’s note: What are the chances? lol]

I think I surprised her; fortunately, this time, it was a pleasant surprise.

“You want to go to the Women’s March?” she asked.

“I mean, if it’s OK and everything, me not being of the woman persuasion. You know,” I stopped, while I was not any further behind.

“No!” she exclaimed, “I mean, yes. No, you don’t have to be a woman, and yes, it would be nice if you wanted to go with me.” 

There, that settled that.


Tomorrow: “Grab a light pole and hang on.”

No comments:

Post a Comment