How many angels can dance on the head of a pin. A medieval question. Philosophy or physics.
It is a beautiful image of course. Dancing angels on shiny pins.
Angels. Ghosts. Infinity. Transparent. Pointless.
A man shot his wife, his grown son and his neighbor early Christmas morning in the same town where my Mother in Law lives. A tiny country town. Sparkling with Christmas decorations. Not a pretty town except in autumn. A working town with empty shop fronts and a grocery store. A few hundred people. The museum and a little library, the post office and a bank. Ordinary. Quiet. No night life. Windows closed and curtains drawn. Sidewalks rolled up at dusk.
Then an eruption of such violence early Christmas morning. A working man shooting his son, his wife and their neighbor in the head. Point blank. Cleaned up then called the police.
A few hours later on Christmas morning, we were surprised to have to take a small detour to get to her house because of road blockages and police tape, after discussing the situation we concluded that it was all still rumor, we had no facts, we guessed who might have killed whom, concluded we would wait for news and continued with our day. No consideration for our own safety. These things happen to other people of course.
The News did not mention it. There were no police on the street asking if anyone heard anything. No Hollywood reporters. No detectives in trench coats. No bright lights or hazmat suits. The poor bloody bodies had been removed I guess. Just a few police cars parked with flashing lights and yellow police tape tied to trees.
We had our Christmas lunch. The police lights occasionally flashing through the alley. Chattering on – the weather was warm – ball throwing weather.
So TonTon has gone to live with my Mother in Law- maybe for a while – maybe a very long while. I delivered him on Christmas Day. I would like to say it was because of the violence but mainly it was because she had been feeling lonely after losing her little old dog a few months ago and Ton was getting old and achy and snappy with boisterous Boo so it seemed a natural pairing. The discovery of the murders as Ton and I drive into town just underscored the necessity of a dog for her. Though I miss him. Maybe I was thinking of safety after all.
But I have always had a dog in my life and so has The Matriarch so I know the feeling. And then this violence – only a few houses from hers. She needs a well trained dog.
The angels dance on in a merry go round of pointlessness caught forever on their pin head, while we shuffle around on our mortal coil.
This morning – feeling the need to move – I am writing to you in the train. I will be back later today to shift pigs and so on.
Have a day! Wherever you are. Just grab it and have it.