Outside of my window a little bird sings all night long. He (?) begins with tweets and chirps, which evolve into operatic arias that would make Pavarotti envious.
I find this quite interesting, because I thought that birds were not nocturnal. Does he worry about other birds gobbling up all the worms just as he nods off at dawn? Evidently not. He sings with such incredible joy, ignoring the conventions of his species. I admire him for rebelling, for changing the status quo for birds.
Winston Churchill said “To improve is to change; to be perfect is to change often.” That is not a philosophy embraced by most people in the Golden Triangle. Judging from the results of our recent election, you would think that change is something to fear. I was hoping for a mayor and a few council people who use fairly good grammar, obey the law and are color blind. Silly me. At least we have that new “Muriel” to enjoy. Perfection is far from our grasp.
Of course, some changes make me sad. We lost a brilliant woman with the death of Barbara Bobo. She was a progressive thinker and a political activist. Barbara was a southern belle with the edge of a bastard file. She had one foot firmly planted in her Christian devotion and the other on a rocket to the future. Barbara, you will be missed.
For those who have asked for an update on the recent addition to my family, there is so much to say about Freda Jolie. The new lady-dog is nothing but a bundle of love. She fit into our lives with absolutely no period of adjustment.
Surprisingly, she has turned into the boss of the house. This girl is the smallest and youngest of our three children. She is also the most demanding and vocal. Freda forces Charlotte Russe, who is twice as tall and twice as old (the age is a guess, because as a shelter pet, we have no idea how old she really is), out of the softest seat in the house. She has no fear of our huge, 14-year-old kitty, Loa, who could put her in her place with one swipe of his needle-sharp claws.
We have no idea why he does not. I’m not sure if this change was good for Charlotte and Loa at first, but it is obvious that they all love each other now.
I am learning to accept, or maybe just adapt, to the physical changes that come with age. I am
not the girl I used to be.
Friedrich Nietzsche said, “The snake which cannot cast its skin has to die. As well the minds which are prevented from changing their opinions; they cease to be mind.”
I wish I could shed my old skin and joints, especially the parts that are arthritic. I wish, too, that local voters could change some opinions. We need to wake up before the Golden Triangle ceases
to be.
The little bird outside of my window has chosen to sing all night.
Maybe this annoys, or even frightens, his birdie brothers. He does not seem to care. He just
keeps making lovely music.
He is an inspiration for me. That is, to sing my own song, and to vote my own conscience, no
matter how powerful are the unquestioning and conventional voices of the rest of the flock.
Adele Elliott, a New Orleans native, moved to Columbus after Hurricane Katrina.
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