Sat., June 19, 1999I tried. I really did. I pawed, I panned, I got out my jeweler's lens, I even borrowed a pagan friend's divining rod. Nothing. Not one memorable moment could be found in all of yesterday....
As I'd feared ahead of time, my guests forgot to bring any with them. I picked, I pried, I frisked - all in vain. By the time I'd somehow stumbled through what ended up being an 8-hour stretch of desert time, all I had to show for it was a parched curiosity and a cracking brain....The closest thing to a memorable experience came when we went on an early evening drive. The fleeting sight of a huge, vine-covered tree nestled among many others on gently rolling, summer-lush hills was enchanting. That I can't now recall exactly where we passed this tree makes it seem all the more magical, of course.
As does the realization that it has obviously been growing there - right there - since long before I was born....
And then there were the cats. They seemed to be everywhere. Under parked cars, in picture windows, walking along fences, running through fields. No orange ones, no Siamese, but every other sort. Most turning their heads to watch us go by. Even if they aren't the extraterrestrial spies I suspect them of being, it was spooky.
I'm sure we changed world history, just by impinging on their feline awareness for a split-second or two. Everything we do changes world history, of course, but it somehow feels more special when it happens to be a cat acting as the pivot point on which alternate realities turn.Ray Bradbury once wrote a story about how the crushing of a prehistoric butterfly by a modern time traveler changed the outcome of an important election in the time traveler's far distant home time. I've always thought Bradbury vastly underestimated the impact the crushing of that butterfly would have had, and last night's cats reminded me of this.
After all, each cat we passed seemed to pause and watch. Had we not been going by, each cat would have gone about his or her business uninterrupted. Each would have meshed with the rest of reality differently. Most obviously, each cat which had been in motion would have gotten to point X sooner had we not distracted it. Maybe that would have been good for the cat (if it had led to its spotting a mouse our distracting influence allowed to escape); maybe it would have been bad (cars, dogs - fill in the blank).
Less obviously, our distraction changed the flow of thoughts in the cat's brain. The natural flow of thoughts (and emotions) was disturbed.
In both cases, the cat's life was changed. And once you've changed a cat's life, you've changed the lives of all those it interacts with.
And the lives of all those people and creatures which those lives interact with....
And on and on, forever, in an ever-expanding ripple.Gee, but it's stunning to contemplate the power I have, just sitting in the back seat of a car.
Just imagine what I could do if I ever wrote a decent journal entry!Were my guests or my wife aware of this power of mine? Were they aware of their own? I doubt it. They hadn't set out in a car to change world history, after all. They had set out to look at the big new houses being built in the area. Had they asked me what man-made things we ought to go out and see, I would have suggested that we drive through the worst parts of town where the oldest and most derelict structures lurk, just so we could come home with a new appreciation for what we have. But they didn't ask, and I knew better than to suggest it.
So while they gawked at the huge new estates and pondered the who and how and whys of them, I collected glimpses of trees and considered the impact of Changed Black Cat #2 on next month's globe.
Can't wait to watch "Meet The Press" tomorrow and see if the pundits agree with me.P.S. - Not many memorable moments to be gleaned from today, either. A week of this and it'll be an official drought.
BUT - I did plant another tree! A redbud sapling that my neighbor gave me. It's only about knee-high now, and I probably inflicted irreparable damage on its roots when I moved it, but as of right now I have an actual, honest-to-goodness redbud tree growing beside my front walk. With actual huge, dark green, heart-shaped leaves and everything. Just like I've wanted for years!
Why have I wanted one for years? Because there's one week every April here in Ohio when the redbud limbs are lined with small but absurdly vibrant magenta blossoms.
Fairy tales never come closer to Ohio than that week the redbud's are in bloom.I was going to close with a little trivia question, but I can't.
There's a foot-and-a-half tree I need to set up with a nightlight.
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