End Of Story

One evening last September, a horde of teenagers, walked down the public access path, adjacent to our home, toward the beach. It was dark and the air was filled with loud, young voices. Looking out the window, we saw rows of blinking flashlights from the many I-Phones as they traversed the route like an army of ants. Would put you in mind of 1970s concerts with the Bic lighters flicking in the air or fireflies in the woods on a hot summer’s night.

They were not quiet and voices carry by the water. My husband was not happy. I said, “Ah, it’s a last Friday night hurrah before school. Probably just having a few beers.”

He said, “Mary, we don’t want to normalize this. And it’s after 10:00pm.”

Umm, okay, Dad. lol

They were there nearly an hour. I did call the police (under spousal pressure lol) and clearly stated, “NOT an emergency but a bunch of young folks carrying on by the water.”

The police never came. The kids left after an hour. End of story.

Apparently, not the end of story. The police didn’t come to us because the youthful band was wreaking havoc all over the nearby neighborhoods. They received calls from many residents as the miscreants navigated their way around town. Breaking into cars and causing mischief.

But I did not know this when I went to bed. And I didn’t know it first thing in the morning.

The truth is I didn’t much care about the teenaged nonsense when I actually did find out later in the day-figured the middle class white kids would get a “stern talking to” by the concerned parental units as well as law enforcement. Probably get saddled with some community service and/or reduction in weekly allowance as restitution. I had no doubt that they’d be found and held accountable in some small way. It didn’t effect me in any way and I wasn’t outraged. I was apathetic. End of that story.

Back to the start of my day.

When I woke up, I gathered a trash bag and gloves. Walked down to the beach. I was expecting to clean up the previous evening’s detritus.

I was pleasantly surprised. No red Solo cups anywhere! Spied a couple of discarded cardboard coffee cups. I left the beach with the almost empty trash bag slung over my shoulder and followed the public access path away from the shore. Retracing steps of the- unbeknownst to me at the time -wild and wanton youth! STILL no big loads of trash! Yay, young people! Hip. Hip. Hooray!

I continued up past my house and across the bike path to another trail in the woods. The kids most likely chose this route to get back to the neighborhoods. I had cleaned up this area on a few occasions in the past. Because it was a popular resting place for alcohol bottles. That’s where they all went to die. I once filled up a whole bag of vodka and beer empties. Not a one of them mine! Anyway, the next practical step in good citizenry was to continue collecting trash.

Ambled into the woods with eyes roaming-here and there-mostly at the ground. But I do scan the area. I like to be aware of my surroundings. To my right, among the trees, there was a glint. Something reflecting in the sun-dappled woods caught my eye. I looked closer and saw a bicycle lying on its side. Maybe a small rucksack near the bike.

Ahhh. So the kids did leave a little something in their wake!!

That was my first thought.

I then glanced around the woods. And noticed a figure some distance beyond the bike. It looked like a person hunched over near a tree. You’d have to be looking intently to see it. If you were trotting up the path straightaway you’d have passed both unknowingly-the bike and the bent-over person.

My second thought? After thinking it was a teen’s bike?

I wasn’t alone in the woods!

I’ve hiked in a lot of surrounding woods and was totally aware that people sometimes lived in them. Men.

I felt a touch of anxiety set in at that moment. I might be an older woman but I was still a lone female in a wooded area with no one else in the immediate area. Except possibly a strange man.

I continued looking, firmly rooted in my spot, as it didn’t appear the man was moving. And then I saw a thick rope hanging from a limb.

I ran across the bike path to my house in less than sixty seconds. I opened the front door and shouted up to my husband, “Come, now!”

He was on a conference call. He also knew if I was calling for him then something wasn’t right.

“Leave the dog in the house!”

He came tearing out of the house in his bare feet.

I said, “I think there is a body hanging from that tree.”

He said, “It’s probably the kids from last night with early Halloween pranks.”

I replied, “I don’t think so.”

The cops were called and this time they arrived.

It was not a Halloween prank.

Made the marauding high schoolers seem like really small potatoes.

This the end of the story.

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Changes

Greetings all!

Hard to believe the seasons are sailing past us. I know there is no magic wand to slow it all down. Nor should there be. Because then I’d just be playing God with the seasons.

Swish of the wand.

Spring. Sure, stick around, temps are good. Green buds everywhere. Life.

Summer, you too, are welcome to just laze. No one rushing you.

Autumn, I know I said I always loved you.

Attractive boots. Sweaters. Apples. Cider. Colors everywhere. Rah rah from nearby stadiums. Wool suits. Burning leaves in the backyard.

So many people proclaim, “I love the Fall.” And I agree with them smiling. Say things like, “Me, too.” Now I say, “Me, too, but it’s the transition thing that’s tough for me.”

This year wasn’t too bad. Because the youngest returned to school early for three weeks of training. So it wasn’t like September 1st rolled around and my kid was gone again. It was still warm and summer when I helped unpack her at university.

But I ride my bike down the East Bay path and the beach is empty. The cacophony of the park and recreation area, normally present in the summer, has been stilled now that all of the little day campers have gone. No more thwonks of tennis balls hitting the courts. Only the honks of the Canadian geese, befouling/befowling the area, are heard.

Traffic patterns changed. Tourists and summer folks left while the school buses returned. The ones you’ll do anything not to be stuck behind when they pick up or discharge their precious cargo. God bless them. But still. We all have things to do, right?

It’s dark. The clocks have been changed. Halloween, Thanksgiving and Xmas shopping.

I have not been sitting here moping. Been a busy woman. Did some community service in town. Organized a team for an Alzheimer’s Walk. Visited youngest up in Vermont. Sat in on a couple of her university classes. Am ahead of my reading challenge (100 by end of year) by one book! Had Lasik procedure on my eyes. Felt blessed that my mom turned 80 years old last month. Delved into African-American authors. Enjoyed visitors up until last week. Currently doing my civic duty and loving it.

But still. Haven’t packed up the entire patio. Or transferred garden ornaments into the garage.

Maybe this weekend.

Here is a poem by Langston Hughes. Recently finished a book of his. So enjoyed it. And I am not a “sit under a leafy tree and blow on dandelions while making wishes/reading poetry type of girl.” He was good.

I mean, that’s it in a nutshell, isn’t it? Autumn. And then Winter.

With that being said, I do enjoy the change of seasons. I pined for it while living out of New England. Even more so when we moved overseas.

I enjoy the change. Not the transition.

 

 

 

 

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