Wednesday, April 22, 2015
The truth can be sad
I have always, through my life, done and said things that haunted me a little or sometimes more. I don't mean to speak here of things I regret. These, rather, are hauntings. The things that leave a strange aftertaste lingering in me for awhile. It is not easy to trouble out their meaning.
It would be safer to say less. I have learned slowly to keep my council some. But the power of that always is strange to me, even as sometimes it is essential. I am a jester, the word of god, a pin among the balloons, nonsense, a friendly word, a lot of thinking, and some not thinking enough.
All of them.
And so today my wife and I were driving home from a plumbing supply store. Near to the plumbing supply store is a Planned Parenthood. Out in front were the endless protesters, servants all, but only of men. I looked in the eyes of one of them, from the passenger seat of our car.
Did I flip him off?
No, no. I didn't feel angry.
Looking at him, I made the sign for madness, and we rode on to the next errand.