Wednesday, April 04, 2007
This particular Evening |2:05 AM| This post goes from rather trivial bizzareness to depressing and navel gazing.
I was out throwing the boomerang, and for the second time this week a guy walks up to me and starts talking about boomerangs.
Weird. In the on again, off again year I've been throwing these things, I've had people stop to watch briefly at a distance, people jogging by making a comment, etc. No real contact. Now twice in one month, both older guys.
He knew how to throw, took him one biffed throw to get back into it, and he was getting that big fucking Kilimanjaro all the way back to us, mostly.
Guess I am going to have to start a boomerang club. Thing is, what would we do? Eat breakfast, get very far away from each other, and all throw at the same time? We could put together a standard tournament, Australian round, juggling, etc. I dunno. It doesn't lend itself to socializing, until you're so good that you can carry on a conversation and not have to stop talking suddenly to go chase an errant throw.
While I was out there, I saw a woman setting up a bag of golf clubs. She had her dog, and was, I guess, practicing her swing.
A few minutes later I heard her yell, saw her start running, saw a truck, heard some noise I couldn't place.
Then I heard, just a bit, her wail. Just the last part of a no, stretched out and torn up by the wind before it got to me. I've only heard a person make that noise a few times in my life, and there's really no faking it, or confusing it. I knew the dog was dead the instant I heard that wavering syllable.
It wasn't my business, and I stayed far away. There wasn't a damn thing besides feeling sorry for her that could be done. Poor damn luck.
There was a friend of hers out there, coming from a parked car. I didn't like staring but I didn't exactly feel like throwing, I pulled my eyes off of the scene.
She vanished. The evening was coming in, and an hour and a half after she'd left the clubs were still there.
I've got this tendency, a tendency that when it's a weakness is called "not leaving well enough alone." But it can also be "doing the right thing." This had me torn.
I was out there, being eaten alive by mosquitoes, considering the clubs at great distance. It's not a great area, not a bad area. A lot of foot traffic though, easy for them to get stolen.
I went inside. Leave it be.
I went back out a very few minutes later, and the clubs were still out there. Somewhere a woman was burying her pet and I was debating the merits of possible theft prevention. I took the clubs. I left my wind sock out there, glowstick taped to the top, with a sign stapled to it "Lost clubs?" and phone number.
I did not want to have an impact on these people's lives, grief, whatever. I also didn't want one more thing on their plates with a lost set of clubs. That was what made me feel wrong, to be possibly complicating someone else's absolutely shitty day on the off chance some asshole would abscond with the clubs.
They called, 2 hours or so later. They'd found my note, were across the street, said they'd had an accident with a dog and had to leave the clubs behind. I showed up, it was a male friend, and some female friend, girl way off. I dropped the bag off, no words about it beyond a quiet thanks and my grunt. With any luck I had as little an impact on them as possible.
This particular Evening |2:05 AM| This post goes from rather trivial bizzareness to depressing and navel gazing.
I was out throwing the boomerang, and for the second time this week a guy walks up to me and starts talking about boomerangs.
Weird. In the on again, off again year I've been throwing these things, I've had people stop to watch briefly at a distance, people jogging by making a comment, etc. No real contact. Now twice in one month, both older guys.
He knew how to throw, took him one biffed throw to get back into it, and he was getting that big fucking Kilimanjaro all the way back to us, mostly.
Guess I am going to have to start a boomerang club. Thing is, what would we do? Eat breakfast, get very far away from each other, and all throw at the same time? We could put together a standard tournament, Australian round, juggling, etc. I dunno. It doesn't lend itself to socializing, until you're so good that you can carry on a conversation and not have to stop talking suddenly to go chase an errant throw.
While I was out there, I saw a woman setting up a bag of golf clubs. She had her dog, and was, I guess, practicing her swing.
A few minutes later I heard her yell, saw her start running, saw a truck, heard some noise I couldn't place.
Then I heard, just a bit, her wail. Just the last part of a no, stretched out and torn up by the wind before it got to me. I've only heard a person make that noise a few times in my life, and there's really no faking it, or confusing it. I knew the dog was dead the instant I heard that wavering syllable.
It wasn't my business, and I stayed far away. There wasn't a damn thing besides feeling sorry for her that could be done. Poor damn luck.
There was a friend of hers out there, coming from a parked car. I didn't like staring but I didn't exactly feel like throwing, I pulled my eyes off of the scene.
She vanished. The evening was coming in, and an hour and a half after she'd left the clubs were still there.
I've got this tendency, a tendency that when it's a weakness is called "not leaving well enough alone." But it can also be "doing the right thing." This had me torn.
I was out there, being eaten alive by mosquitoes, considering the clubs at great distance. It's not a great area, not a bad area. A lot of foot traffic though, easy for them to get stolen.
I went inside. Leave it be.
I went back out a very few minutes later, and the clubs were still out there. Somewhere a woman was burying her pet and I was debating the merits of possible theft prevention. I took the clubs. I left my wind sock out there, glowstick taped to the top, with a sign stapled to it "Lost clubs?" and phone number.
I did not want to have an impact on these people's lives, grief, whatever. I also didn't want one more thing on their plates with a lost set of clubs. That was what made me feel wrong, to be possibly complicating someone else's absolutely shitty day on the off chance some asshole would abscond with the clubs.
They called, 2 hours or so later. They'd found my note, were across the street, said they'd had an accident with a dog and had to leave the clubs behind. I showed up, it was a male friend, and some female friend, girl way off. I dropped the bag off, no words about it beyond a quiet thanks and my grunt. With any luck I had as little an impact on them as possible.
2 Comments:
How sad!
By 
, at
7:07 AM
We impact each other always, all the time.
AV
By , at
3:25 PM
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