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| A turkey of the type that lives on our block |
Some mornings there are turkeys. We have a family living in our neighborhood. They’re generally only out and about in the early morning or at dusk. Unlike some turkeys they are not aggressive, but neither are they particularly friendly. I don’t believe it’s in a turkey to be amiable to the approaches of humans. They clearly are aware of Thanksgiving -- their holocaust.
Two days ago there was one family member in front of our house when I went to get the morning paper. It made it’s way across the street and I noted that it left behind a feather. Turkey feathers are rather attractive. Turkeys themselves however are unsightly creatures. Put put a puppy's head on them and you've got something.
Last night I walked to the front of the house. Staring at me through the window were two adult turkeys. Upon seeing me they departed the premises.
In an hour I’ll walk to work. I tell everyone that one of the blessings of my job is that it is but a fifteen-minute walk from home. That’s a bald-faced lie. It’s eighteen minutes. (Please don’t tell.) Most days this summer the morning fog has been draped over the city. This is most pleasing because absent that fog I’ve got the damn sun blaring into my face. Even my sunglasses can’t fully protect me from its annoying rays.
For a few months I hardly saw a soul for most of my walk. But now school is in session and there are packs of high school students everywhere as well as some walking alone. High school students can be anywhere from fourteen to eighteen. They come in all sizes, shapes and attire. Some are clearly rebelling against society (though they probably couldn’t articulate exactly why). Others are trying not to be noticed. Some are gregarious others painfully shy. Some appear studious, others are social butterflies, still others live in both worlds. High school students — like most of us — appear quite different at 8:20 AM than they will at noon or at 3:00 PM. The chatter is at normal tones and not terribly animated in the morning. Later in the day they’ll be boisterous, some feral.
Most take little notice of me, some random old man. Occasionally one (invariably a female) will acknowledge me with a friendly smile. But adults are generally invisible to teenagers, excepting those they have to directly deal with like parents and teachers.
I also stroll past an elementary school. Wee ones are already being led around by adults while others are being dropped off by moms and dads.The little cherubs know too little of the world to be anything but eager and excited. A few of the younger ones show displeasure at their parents’ departure but quickly adjust. The parents seem impossibly young to me, after all many are around my daughters' ages.
By the time I get to the intersection of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Way and Allston Way I am directly across the street from the high school. The intersection is chockablock with high schoolers. Cars are streaming down the street and traffic lights are defied at one’s own peril.
Crossing the street I part company from my teenaged travel companions and cut through a small downtown park. It is a haven to the homeless, addicts, a few lost souls and skateboarders. There is a Veteran’s Memorial Building across the street which provides free meals, so many in the park are having their morning repast. (Interestingly, high school students take over the park during their lunch and the mendicants make way.)
Once out of the park — always leery of some loon with a knife mistaking me for their arch enemy — I have but a block before I reach school. There are two colleagues who have arrived before me by a minute or two. We exchange morning pleasantries then I get my materials and set up camp in my classroom.
Work days fly by. It’s like that when you enjoy your work and most especially when you teach but one class. In the middle of class there is a twenty-minute break. I have a snack and get some air. Often I chat with co-workers, particularly my boss who supports the same Premier League team as I do.
My walk home is faster because it is on a downward slope. I’ve never timed it, but I believe it to be two minutes shorter than the morning stroll.
The city is fully awake by this time. I encounter all manner of citizen including moms pushing strollers, truant high schoolers, gardeners, construction workers, people running errands and folks out for a stroll.
Home again I am greeted by my wife. The rest of the day is ours. I variously write, read, watch a film, go for a walk or nap. The missus and I often have pleasant chats.
It’s a good life — turkeys or no.
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