A confession. My absence has been my own. I did not post because, quite frankly and rightly so, I presumed no one read this drivel. The chain of thought was this; there are enough opinions out there and enough mediocrity in print to sustain a voracious reader through a multitude of lifetimes. I can add to the pile. I did. I have done my part.
Yesterday, a co-worker asked me, quite out of the blue - why I hadn't worked on this for a while. An unsolicited query - my interest grew. He continued. He said that he enjoyed reading this, that it was good and interesting. At this point I am likely adding fiction to fact to make this seem more meaningful, but if you want the news, go to CNN. Regardless, the chord was struck, and an internal pledge made: get on this again.
So here is the public portion of my private shame - I will start posting again. I will actually complete the 'to be continued' entries. And I will try to maintain some regularity.
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“I saw a sparrow feed a blind sparrow in the Public Gardens about three years ago. I used to go there often. When I wasn’t there with a book under my noise I would find other ways to pass the time on those summer days. I’d buy a quarter pound or a half a pound of enriched wheat from a nearby bakery to feed my little feathered friends; pigeons, robins, and sparrows. One day while they were feeding all around me, I noticed that one sparrow was flying off with his grain every time, instead of swallowing it down and waiting for more, as all the others did. So I watched him. He flew off about thirty feet into the grass to another sparrow who was sitting there. The waiting sparrow would lift his head – with unseeing eyes and my sparrow would put the grain into his mouth and fly back for more. Carefully I moved by degrees over until I was within four or five feet of the sitting bird. He was as large as my sparrow – and my sparrow was a good fat one. And he was an adult – with full wings. I waited until they flew away. The seeing sparrow went close to the blind one and shoved against his shoulder, or, as if he was nudging him, and they rose with the rest. They kept extremely close together. It was the most moving thing I have seen among animals.”
M.A.
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