The first official weekend of spring! Lawnmowers will sound off like Carrie Underwood singing the national anthem. Trenches will be dug in ways to move water through your flower garden, freshly purchased trees and shrubs will locate newer soil to spread their wings, the sound of children hollering will flood the distant horizon while rivers of catsup are poured onto burgers, dogs and fries.
Spring represents rebirth. Not just a second chance but for some annuals it’s their fifteenth season with higher hopes of reaching farther than the fat rock that got in the way fifty two weeks ago. Box turtles hidden away for months eagerly grasp at the chance of basking in a full day of sun. There’s always a couple of mallards to each single duck, lonely are those who guaranteed their mate the future only to learn their section of the roster didn’t make it through what we call winter.
Inner city forests bloom with bright white, pink and red flowers sending human stick figures toward drug stores in search of antihistamines and other means that’ll help erase the liquid flowing freely from a nose once assumed our buddy. Thick ear piercing headaches will rock the fun straight off its feet while moods will swing and tempers take up flying.
Car windows rolled down, the constant thump of today’s hottest song pushing beyond the bouncing rearview mirror shaking all that has suddenly become its path of demonstration. Consumed liquids, potato chip, leafy green salad and pizza, every shape, size and flavor fall victim to newer ways of marketing guaranteeing consumers our methods this season have never been better.
The eager human will play while some choose to rest; a few are expected to redesign their professional landscape with high hopes of protecting a future no longer connected to a decision maker’s cash advance or corporate bonus.
Like all other creatures given life, those who stand big, tall or small, round, flat or hairy, shove food in their mouth, cheer loudly, purchase larger than life HDTVs and drive gas guzzling SUVs are braving the odds of escaping what the news media failed to call the Business Blizzard of 08, where nearly everything stopped, wobbled like a Weeble but didn’t fall down.
Rebirth…
I’ve seen CSI…no man nor woman can stuff their body plus a million dollars into a shiny new fresh from the forest coffin nor does worldly, locally or family fame come with weight. Thank goodness! I’ve been a pallbearer a few times this life and the breathless body within turns any assumed pair of strong legs into melted ice.
Staring into a world you’ve never been able to control, cars look just as they did ten years ago, George Jetson and his dog Astro aren’t zooming between office buildings on stilts and anything Star Trek is nothing more than a religious experience. The only thing different is a dirty, nasty un-Hollywood like banking crisis connected to joblessness, home loss, starving pets, and congressional leaders creatively coming up with questions that are delivered like an old time preacher in a tent all in the name of being featured on the 5 o’clock news resembling that of hockey pucks and basketball dunks on ESPN and Sports South.
Does a tree look at another during the chilly days of winter and softly whisper, “I can’t do it anymore?” Does a rose bush secretly discuss topics beneath the surface of the soil that would injure the rooting system of an always green ivy vine? When the crows speak loudly on days you want nothing to be made, do you ever hear them shout, “Humans are losers?” The bright red male Cardinal with its chirp so quick and vibrant, its mate not looking anything like a magazine cover or the inside sleeve of a Sunday paper…do you think he bumps her in mid flight and says, “Um babe…what’s with the lengthy tail feather?”
Spring has arrived in downtown Carolina.
Backyard decks blessed with heavenly scents will attempt to erase the visibly homeless, starving and constantly begging mosquitoes. Flies will out run Grandma’s sure fire swatter while hornets and wasps search for uncaring always-off-the-beaten-path humans to sting. Giant red ants singing, “Hi Ho, Hi Ho,” search for Japanese beatles freshly fallen from the sky and tadpoles evolve into something called a frog…forcing painters, poets, songwriters and deep thinkers to wonder, “Hmmm what could I be if only…”
You can’t suddenly wish the national trip, stumble and fall away. You aren’t going to wake up tomorrow and poof everything is mighty fine. Walt Disney was onto something when he allowed extremely evil things take place in every picture he brought to life. It was a reminder…we aren’t perfect, not even a shy deer named Bambi. We gain, we lose, we laugh, we cry, we build only to rip apart and there’s no guarantee in the event commonly called a happy ending.
Ninety percent of us have no clue why we’re here and that’s ok. What’s sad is the other ten percent is allowed to shape your path. From bad television shows to computer companies locked onto American culture…we’ve become addicted to their future and when that doesn’t work, we’re expected to pay the price.
Springtime in Carolina…an invitation to grow….the opportunity to regenerate the energy in everything you’ve buried and give it life. So what if you didn’t make it the top floor at the bank, restaurant or mall store! No matter how bad the snow, cold, thunder, floods and or drought…the ivy vine keeps growing.
Put some fresh potting soil around your ankles, prune the dead leaves from your limbs, softly whisper the very prayer your mother's mother once shared and allow your dreams to grow. You can do it! You will do it! And like a tree pushed to its side in a world where man decides if it should live or die, you will reach outward and upward screaming, “I’m not finished yet! This is my new dance called ART”
Steal mine….
arroecollins@clearchannel.com
No comments:
Post a Comment