April 02-03, 2104
the goddamned sanctity of life! part ii: "The Bee"
It is time for another installment of "The Goddamned Sanctity of Life" in which one attempts to do the right thing against all principles of convenience.
This moment of love and compassion was thrust upon my son and I as we ducked out of Lafayette Park on top of a hill in San Francisco because of a clearly brewing storm. Even though we live in Oregon and can take most any and all rain the Heavens can throw down, I still preferred to get home before the sky just opened up and deluged on us. (Is deluge a verb? Probably not--but no one cares about made up words anymore.)
Quickly walking down Washington to Webster I spotted this bee walking in circles on the sidewalk:
This moment of love and compassion was thrust upon my son and I as we ducked out of Lafayette Park on top of a hill in San Francisco because of a clearly brewing storm. Even though we live in Oregon and can take most any and all rain the Heavens can throw down, I still preferred to get home before the sky just opened up and deluged on us. (Is deluge a verb? Probably not--but no one cares about made up words anymore.)
Quickly walking down Washington to Webster I spotted this bee walking in circles on the sidewalk:
As usual, I felt the "tug and release" of "Oh, no! Dying thing on the sidewalk with no greenery to be found…oh well, good luck with that." and cruised on by. But then that thing happened where I get all clenched up and feel uncomfortable leaving a dying creature behind. So, I turned around and thought, "I'll just toss him on a bush or something and be off!"
I am always so wrong about these things.
My child stopped as I crouched down and peered at the struggling fuzzy bumble bee. We hunched over it and threw some ideas around: how to move it without having to worry about being stung, etc.
My son spied a leaf.
We will use this leaf, he declared, to move the bee.
We set to work, but the bee wanted nothing to do with the green leaf. It was one of those Laurel shrub leaves and they are very slick. The bee was frustrating because it kept putting his little bee foot on the leaf, thinking about it a moment, and then turning around and ambling off. I have no pictures of this part because we were so engaged in the Goddamned Sanctity of Life!
It started to bluster and raindrops fell.
"Forget it!!" I yelled. "He doesn't want a bush--he doesn't get a bush!! Come on!"
I walked off. I went about 2 steps downhill. . "Fuuuuuck," I thought to myself.
I turned around again--my child hadn't moved anyway. I went back and crouched down. My son had abandoned the leaf and is now bravely sticking out his hand. (I will one day tell the epic tale of the Great Swarm Under the Plum Tree, 2011)
We set to work, but the bee wanted nothing to do with the green leaf. It was one of those Laurel shrub leaves and they are very slick. The bee was frustrating because it kept putting his little bee foot on the leaf, thinking about it a moment, and then turning around and ambling off. I have no pictures of this part because we were so engaged in the Goddamned Sanctity of Life!
It started to bluster and raindrops fell.
"Forget it!!" I yelled. "He doesn't want a bush--he doesn't get a bush!! Come on!"
I walked off. I went about 2 steps downhill. . "Fuuuuuck," I thought to myself.
I turned around again--my child hadn't moved anyway. I went back and crouched down. My son had abandoned the leaf and is now bravely sticking out his hand. (I will one day tell the epic tale of the Great Swarm Under the Plum Tree, 2011)
The bee would not climb on his hand.
I stuck my hand out. It immediately crawled onto me. I wasn't prepared for this. I held out my hand to my son:
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh……ahhh…is it going to sting me….ahhh...?????" and then it tickled me and I freaked and jerked away and the bee was once again on the ground.
My son looked close and seemed to observe that the bee had no stinger--and perhaps this is why it is dying in the first place.
I didn't believe him. What does he know? He's eight. Maybe the stinger was hidden somewhere weird, like under its left wing.
I claimed that the leaf was too slippery, my hand was too sensitive and webwere just going to have to leave him on the sidewalk. Again.
(Involuntarily, I kept picturing someone stepping on him and I honestly didn't know why this bothered me so much.)
I stuck my hand out. It immediately crawled onto me. I wasn't prepared for this. I held out my hand to my son:
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh……ahhh…is it going to sting me….ahhh...?????" and then it tickled me and I freaked and jerked away and the bee was once again on the ground.
My son looked close and seemed to observe that the bee had no stinger--and perhaps this is why it is dying in the first place.
I didn't believe him. What does he know? He's eight. Maybe the stinger was hidden somewhere weird, like under its left wing.
I claimed that the leaf was too slippery, my hand was too sensitive and webwere just going to have to leave him on the sidewalk. Again.
(Involuntarily, I kept picturing someone stepping on him and I honestly didn't know why this bothered me so much.)
Once again I walked off downhill.
"Let's go! It's starting to rain!"
I glanced back and saw that my child was now doing something new. I went back up the hill. He explained:
"This is a rain house for the bee so he won't get wet."
The bee seemed to appreciate the "rain house" and this made me love the bee more and I wanted to save it again.
"Ok, fine!" I cast my eyes around the Cleanest Sidewalk Ever. Where's a piece of trash when you want one?
I bent down to photograph the rain house and realized I had a very flat thing in my hand already.
I got excited.
"Check it out! We'll use my iPad!"
"Let's go! It's starting to rain!"
I glanced back and saw that my child was now doing something new. I went back up the hill. He explained:
"This is a rain house for the bee so he won't get wet."
The bee seemed to appreciate the "rain house" and this made me love the bee more and I wanted to save it again.
"Ok, fine!" I cast my eyes around the Cleanest Sidewalk Ever. Where's a piece of trash when you want one?
I bent down to photograph the rain house and realized I had a very flat thing in my hand already.
I got excited.
"Check it out! We'll use my iPad!"
I nudged the blue edge against one of his little bee legs and the bee was pleased by this and immediately crawled onto the blue suede-like surface.
The drops started to fall, as evidenced in the dark spots on the cover that aren't dirt and grime (I need a new cover.)
We carried him quickly over to the only viable green haven--a strange floating shrub.
I had to get out my phone to take pictures of the bee on the iPad and suddenly the whole thing was very fun and absurd--my favorite type of thing.
The drops started to fall, as evidenced in the dark spots on the cover that aren't dirt and grime (I need a new cover.)
We carried him quickly over to the only viable green haven--a strange floating shrub.
I had to get out my phone to take pictures of the bee on the iPad and suddenly the whole thing was very fun and absurd--my favorite type of thing.
We placed the bee, on the iPad, on the top of the perfectly planed shrubbery.
(Shrubbery!!)
I took a picture.
(Shrubbery!!)
I took a picture.
Then we dumped him in.
It is impossible to tell if we have done him a favor or not. Perhaps the giant rubber sole of some random shoe is a better fate than being enveloped by the gravity of tiny leaves.
He sunk away from view.
We will never know.
It is impossible to tell if we have done him a favor or not. Perhaps the giant rubber sole of some random shoe is a better fate than being enveloped by the gravity of tiny leaves.
He sunk away from view.
We will never know.
My child searched for him and suggested I take a picture of the magical floating shrub. (There are actually no stalks or trunks under the shrub--it is a little hard to tell in this photo but the bush actually originates from inside the iron fence at an almost unbelievable perpendicular-to-the-ground angle.)
The bee is sunk and gone from view.
My child demonstrated how the leaf was supposed to operate as a rain house for the bee.
Another life saved according to the tiny perceptions and cramped assumptions of the American mind!
Horray!
Score one for participating.
My child demonstrated how the leaf was supposed to operate as a rain house for the bee.
Another life saved according to the tiny perceptions and cramped assumptions of the American mind!
Horray!
Score one for participating.
On a Totally Unrelated Note: The Goddamned Returning of The Car
