(I'm back at the coast. And here are the cats, obsessing over a mouse toy. Come visit me. I will make you breakfast. Also perhaps cookies.)
3-Part Essay, as it were: Good Intentions
I.
On the shelf, next to me, is a book called "The Texan" by Burt Arthur with the tag line: "When they took away his badge, he enforced the law...with blazing six-guns." Which is probably why they took away his badge in the first place. Even a stopped clock is right twice a day and, at times, otherwise corrupt cattle barons need to step in and defrock gun-happy, mentally unbalanced sheriffs no matter how blue said sheriff's eyes, how stubbly his chin or how chiseled his gaze across those wide dusty plains may be.
II.
Growing up, we prayed for victory against opposing teams and politicos, in the manner of Israelites about to face off against the Philistine army, calling out to the God of their fathers. But deep in my heart I always got a thrill when I read somewhere (Samuel? I or II?) when the Philistines realized that some prophet or leader had dredged a confession out of the adulterous hearts of the Hebrew people and, as a result, God had decided to shine upon the Hebrew army and hand out a victory, and the Philistines saw this, understood it but faced it anyway. I was supposed to learn that this was ultimate brashness and arrogance, but I was kind of impressed instead.
III.
The local youth soccer league board met this morning in a hotel lobby attached to a coffee shop. At first I didn't realize who they were and eavesdropping didn't enlighten me. They could have been discussing anything from a business merger to the formation of a monkey wrench team trying to put a stop to dredging in the Columbia River. It was hard to say.
I know these people (in theory) like kids and want them to succeed and be healthy and learn skills, but going off their meetings alone, you'd think it was about firing coaches for political reasons because the fate of the world hangs in the balance, especially if the candy drive fails.
