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an inspection of life choices and why we make them
Of Bar Ditch Birds and Storm Drainage Ducks
If I could only fly, if I could only fly
I’d bid this place goodbye, to come and be with you
But I can hardly stand, and I got no where to run
Another sinking sun, and one more lonely night
If I Could Only Fly, Merle Haggard
I took up daily walking about 4 years ago and quit after I had a heart attack on July 4, 2022, which was when I should have gotten even more serious about exercise. This weekend, I took it up again with renewed commitment. We will see how long it lasts.
Our house is a block from a nice little city park they named Liberty. On my route, I walk north to the park, turn left, and follow a sidewalk marked for walkers and bicyclists. It features a yellow line down the middle so we don’t run into one another and stay in our lane for faster travelers who want to pass us.
(I thought about the yellow line that divides left from right, on that sidewalk, on highways across the country, and in society. The yellow line of cowardice, of fear, used by those who stand to gain from our division to drive us each to our side, to separate and control us, to bilk us of our assets, to appeal to our suspicions and fears of the “others,” to keep us in line. Some pretend to favor the right and some the left but mostly favor themselves – their power, control, and interests. )
The two-lane sidewalk runs along the southern and western borders of a relatively new neighborhood with nice houses and manicured lawns, but not high-end enough to be gated. I travel west on the south side, then turn north on the west side. Eventually, I come to the Cotton Belt Trail, a designed walking and biking path that runs east-west along the Trinity Railway tracks.
North of the trail are the railroad tracks, and south of it is a glorified bar ditch that becomes a stream when the rains are heavy and frequent enough. Near the walking bridge, lies a stony pond in the stream where turtles sun themselves and tadpoles wait their turn to grow legs and hop out of there.
A Grey Heron caught my eye. He was in the bar ditch when I spotted him, standing on a smooth stone and dipping his beak into the muddy stream. In a flash, the idea for this editorial came to me. I whipped out my phone to snap a photo or two but by the time I got him, he was in flight.
I wanted a word with the bird about his choice of environs. Why would a winged being with the strength and freedom to fly over the land and choose where to land choose an ugly, almost-dry, weed-strewn ditch? Did he not know that, as the bird flies, Lake Grapevine was less than 20 miles to the northeast? Little Bear Creek is a pretty place teeming with items on the Heron menu, just five or six miles away. So, explain, Mr. Grey, why you choose to slum in a bar ditch.
I walked on, over the bridge, along the trail another 1/4 mile, then veered southwest, cutting across the parking lot of the Holiday Lane Estates, an overnamed convalescent center, and onto Holiday Lane itself, where I bore south toward home. The last leg of the walk takes me through a neighborhood not as nice as it once was and not as bad as it will be, given current trends. When I got back to Liberty Park, I crossed over a concrete drainage ditch that dumps into a decent little pond next to the park.
These ducks were not swimming in the pretty little pond. They were waddling in the miserable trickle of the drainage ditch, not deep enough to swim in.
Again, I want an interview. I want to ask the Duck family about their choices.
Not ready to commit to a monthly subscription? You can use the button above to make a one-time contribution to this writer to show your apprecition for his work. Thank you for your support!The Wild Life Ain’t No Good Life, But It’s My Life
It isn’t just wildlife, though. Humans make similar choices. Some are prescribed and unavoidable. Most are not.
When that ev’nin’ sun goes down
Yeah, you’ll find me hangin’ around
Because the night life
It ain’t no good life but it’s my lifeYeah, yeah, yeah listen to the blues
Listen to what they’re sayin’
Oh, please listen to the blues
Listen to the blues they’re playin’Ah, ah, all of the people just like you and me
They’re all dreamin’ about their old used to be
Because the night life
It ain’t no good life but it’s my lifeThey tell me life’s an empty scene
An avenue of broken dreams
Because the night life
It ain’t no good life but it’s my life
Night Life by Willie Nelson
I am reading Poor Charlie’s Almanac, featuring the wit and wisdom of Charlie Munger, one of the most brilliant investors America ever produced, and Warren Buffet’s indispensable partner at Berkshire-Hathaway.
In a commencement speech, Munger quoted Johnny Carson, who had given the commencement at the same prep school years before. Carson, rather than providing a recipe for success or happiness, gave the kids a guaranteed formula for Misery:
Make it a habit to alter your mood with chemicals like alcohol or drugs.
Be envious of anyone who has or does more than you, or whom you see as having more advantages than you.
Resentment over a wrong, insult, or injury.
You may not have the options allotted a Grey Herron or a duck. You may find yourself locked into a geographical nightmare with no way (yet) to escape. But you can choose where to live in your mind, in your soul, in your heart.
You can choose bitter but it won’t make things better. You can choose temporary solutions to release endorphins but they won’t heal you.
Why be a bar ditch bird or storm drain duck when the crystal waters of Lake Serenity sparkle so near your misery that you can see the sun’s glint off them?
“You can chain me, you can torture me, you can even destroy this body, but you will never imprison my mind.” -Mahatma Ghandi
Some find more peace in adversity than most find under good circumstances. Change what you can about where you are. What you cannot change, change your mind about (unless it is illegal, unhealthy, or otherwise harmful to you), or change your focus.
And now, dear brothers and sisters, one final thing. Fix your thoughts on what is true, and honorable, and right, and pure, and lovely, and admirable. Think about things that are excellent and worthy of praise.
Philippians 4:8, New Living Translation of the Holy Bible1