“… the sons of Issachar … had understanding of the times, to know what Israel ought to do.”
1 Chronicles 12:32
Life does have a funny way, now and then, of waving at you as it goes by.
A flicker of motion outside my office window. I glanced up to see a roadrunner trotting by, some long, wiggly something in his mouth and a clear destination gleaming in his eye. They’re such ungainly birds – all beaks and legs and angles – but they can move, like some kind of streamlined, sporty chicken.
Anyone who grew up cheering for the “beep-beep” of the Roadrunner cartoons can’t help feeling a fond regard for the real thing, and those of us who live in desert regions tend to delight in the sight of one running along. I was still smiling a little at the thought of this one, 20 minutes later, when I hopped in my car to run an errand. At the corner, I paused to look both ways, only to see, coming toward me, a galloping bundle of lean muscles in motion.
A coyote, with his own eyes fixed on some unseen prey, loped past me, straddling the yellow line.
My first thought, of course, was “Where’d that roadrunner go?” But, had to leave that one to the laws and caprices of nature. Drove away, though, singing the old song:
“Roadrunner … that coyote’s after you …”
Mentioned all this to a co-worker later; he asked if I was taking deliveries from the Acme Company (the one that always supplies Wile E. Coyote with gadgets for his Roadrunner-catching schemes). No, I said, but I did wonder if a “wascally wabbit” might be coming by next.
A few hours later, hearing a howling commotion in the backyard, I stepped out on the patio in time to catch a gray-brown blur go by, then a streak of black fur. Ten feet from the little hole at the bottom of our wall, the rabbit hurled himself for the opening and cleared it clean, leaving our little dog Archie barking and sniffing ferociously in his wake.
The “wascally wabbit,” at last.
Odd, how often – even with just a little information – we can kind of anticipate what’s coming.
Driving home this afternoon, I slid a homemade CD into the car stereo – a “mix tape” of some old favorites I hadn’t listened to in a long, long while. Yet, as one song ended, I found myself humming another … only for that one to come up next on the playlist. All the time that’s passed since last I listened – all the songs ‘ve sung along to since – and yet, the memories run that deep. Subconsciously, I knew what was coming next.
The same things happens to me sometimes when I chance, flipping channels, upon an old movie or TV show that I remember, vaguely, having seen before. Often enough, pausing to watch, I suddenly find myself reciting the dialogue a split second before the characters do. The words just come back … then forgotten scenes … then the whole turning of the plot.
It happened the other day, when I caught a few moments of Nichols, a semi-western from back in the day. Found myself mouthing the words, as one character explains to her man a talent he doesn’t realize he has … one that is proving useful, as he moves through his turbulent times.
“You know how to read sign,” she says, “the way the Indians read sign. All the potholes and the steep grades are marked … and all you have to do is read the signs. And you can read.”
Caught sight of some potholes and steep grades this week.
· A Rhode Island mother is being sued by the country’s most power teachers union for asking the principal at her kindergartner’s school what materials they’d be teaching her child this year. The union’s wants her to stop asking questions – and $74,000 to cover the cost of looking up answers.
· U.S. investors are pouring trillions of dollars into Chinese industries, despite the fact that Chinese Communists are torpedoing their own businesses, undermining American companies, committing open genocide – and, incidentally, poisoned the world with a Covid virus.
· The current administration announced that – due to Covid, of course – it would continue making it illegal for landlords to collect rent. Reporters pointed out that the U.S. Supreme Court has ruled that unconstitutional. President Biden said he knows it is – but he’s going to keep doing it anyway. Laws are for other people. Congressional leaders are cheering.
· Those same elected officials are talking of shutting down the country again – requiring masks indefinitely, everywhere – banning anyone not getting a vaccine from working, traveling, grocery shopping, participating in public life. Unless, of course, they’re one of the thousands upon thousands of illegal immigrants from all over the world pouring across our southern borders. Those lucky people, it seems, can somehow never be infected … or ever be infectious.
· Work continues apace, across the nation, to open up voting to the point that anyone from anyplace can punch a ballot as often as they want, whenever they want, wherever they want – providing they vote for who the powers-that-be want them to vote for.
Travel enough trails, read enough history, study enough people … you learn to read sign.
Plenty of sign to read. Is there a son of Isaachar in the house?
Coincidence, I guess, but still can’t get that song out of my head.
“Roadrunner … that coyote’s after you …”
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