Halloween

Just got back from a party in a neighborhood off 210. Some golf-coursey kind of place with a blizzard of costumed kids whirling in every direction, cutting across lawns, sprinting suddenly and then slowing down for no apparent reason, falling in the streets with zebra/dancer/Spider Man legs pointing skyward, gobbling candy, crying, adjusting masks and bags, all under the watchful (if somewhat tippling) eye of the parents, who were distinguished not just by their height and sober dress but by their willingness to direct vehicular traffic with palms-out gestures and windmilling arms.

It was quite a scene, man. Made me verrry afraid. This is what I am now. I am one of those people. I don't live in their neighborhood, true, but the Billabong t-shirt no longer hides who I am; a white, middle-class parent with a mortgage (okay several), a car, a job, and ambitions for my poor son who only wants to enjoy standing up and falling down.

I, too, would have been directing traffic. I, too, would have been self-righteously complaining about the number of cars on the street, feeling a flush of happiness in my chest as the more paranoid/assertive mothers validated my outbursts.

Now, two quotes that ran through my head at various points in the night:

"I hate people who drive like me." -- Steve Lamott's proposed bumper sticker.

"I always wanted to be an eagle but one day I realized I was just a fuckin' sparrow." -- RTB