Bye January

You run into dead ends
When you don't even try
You cut off your friends
When you get too high

Lucinda Williams, “Shadows and Doubts”

The month of January often feels long. I don’t know why, but I’m rarely bothered when the calendar flips to February. It was fine in SB today, sunshine and a warm 63 degrees, a day to be outside in the air. After a productive morning of review writing, and finishing the new collection of stories, Liberation Day, by George Saunders, I set up my yoga mat on the sunny side of the patio and did some dynamic stretching followed by routines with a 10 pound mace. 

Then I smoked some weed and headed up the hill, listening to the “Road Trip” playlist I created a couple of summer’s ago when I drove to Oregon to visit my brother. What’s on it? Eclectic is probably the correct description. Bob Dylan, Tom Waits, Lucinda Williams, Springsteen, Patti Smith, Greg Brown, Gary Clark jr., Steely Dan, Fleetwood Mac, Elton John, Mark Knopfler, George Michael, Billy Idol. Lots of other stuff, some jazz, blues. Gil Scott-Heron. 

I took a different route and saw some pricey real estate, lots of wrought-iron railings and stone stairs, large windows. Neat. Tidy. I saw not a soul until I reached Dover Road, A couple in the lower park, sitting side-by-side. A wave as I passed. The view was crystal clear, blue, green, and orange in my line of sight. Everything’s blooming after the recent rains.

As I walked I wondered why I haven’t been moved to write anything about recent mass shootings or the senseless murder of Tyre Nichols. I wrote something for my Substack page about gun violence early in January. I obviously heard about the Nichols murder through social media. All I can say is that no human being should die like that, at the hands of agents of the state, agents of law enforcement. No person of any race, color, creed or gender identification. That Black officers committed the crime made it a more unusual case, but not less surprising. Police culture in many communities is haywire. 

But like guns, I don’t know what to do about it. Clearly, more stringent restrictions on firearms are necessary and in the public good. And just as clearly -- as clear as the view today from the hill to the islands -- we have to change how we recruit, screen, and hire police officers. If we desire different outcomes with law enforcement, we need a different brand of officer. There are too many individuals who are temperamentally unsuited for police work wearing badges and carrying guns. Too many racists. Too many sadists. Too many Christian Nationalist white supremacists. Too many people unqualified to wield the authority of the law, and weapons. And the protection of qualified immunity. And their unions. 

The view from the main park was stunning, as it always is. A tall eucalyptus tree had toppled over. Carved into its side were the initials of lovers, names and dates, little designs. Jenna and Gerry, 2001. 

And where are they now, Jenna and Gerry? Still together? Married? Children? Or are they now only memories to one another, of a high school romance or a June to August fling? The eucalyptus tree wasn’t talking. Did Jenna and Gerry make promises they couldn’t keep, not because they didn’t mean them in the moment, but because life usually makes a mockery of such promises.