My coworker's first words to me today when he came to give me a ride to work were: "You sure seem to be handling this well." I guess he expected me to be mad or crying or both.
Well, yeah, I thought. Yeah, my
But even with those thoughts, this morning when I looked at the razor holes and slits in the sidewall of my tires, I didn't feel surprised or saddened. A literal manifestation of how I have felt for the last few years -- gouged, deflated and disabled -- was sitting before my very eyes, in a puddle surrounded by fallen leaves, the kinds that start to scatter off the cedar elms this time of year that I used to run through as a child barefoot, exclaiming "Golden coins! Golden coins!"
Well, I'm not a kid anymore and the golden coins are falling on Washington politicians and burying Wall Street investors. And while you may get your kicks writing "OBAMA SUCKS" notes to leave on my windshield, I entertain myself by calling people in Sealy, Texas old enough to remember voting when there was a poll tax but progressive enough to see Obama's vision. I walk outside on achingly hot sunny weekends, and suck down cold Dr. Peppers in the doorway of the home of a retired Navy officer wanting an Obama sign, while you creep around in the night with a box cutter. Because while you are clearly evil and destructive, there is nothing more evil and destructive than those who sit idly by and do nothing. As Martin Luther King Jr. said, "We will have to repent not merely for vitriolic words and actions of the bad people, but for the appalling silence of the good people."
So, McSlasher, go ahead and do your damage. Key my doors -- I know a good paint shop. Dent my hood -- Fix-A-Dent loves me. But I'm keeping my plates, I'm keeping my voice and I might even slap a few stickers on the bumper now.
Oh and my tires? Slash them again. The tire repair shop owner (I'm guessing he's a Democrat) gave me a lifetime warranty on them.
How's that for change we can believe in?