I could write about the war, I suppose. About greedy, evil thuggery and all things Epstein. I could write about the terribleness of how it is now and what it will become. Instead I’m writing about this. It has a more hopeful ending.
One day last month I got on the freeway to go to an appointment downtown. The drive made me anxious, anxious because of LA traffic, the time of day, the miles to go, and yes, because of my age. Even before you lose the ability to do the things you’ve always done, you lose your confidence, and that’s more or less like losing everything.
But I made it there. Not on my first pass, mind you. The glass buildings had flown by so fast—all shimmer and glare—that I wasn’t sure where I was. I passed blocks lined in the tarps and tents of an urban encampment. When I turned into a parking lot to check the directions on my phone, I found a photo, an actual photo, of the building I was supposed to be at. I made a U-turn and, thank God, I recognized it.
The woman on the phone had said they had a parking garage but they also had valet parking. I pulled up to the valet stop, happy to have help.
A long time ago, I used to tell a joke about myself: “I don’t go anywhere they don’t have valet parking.” It wasn’t entirely true but it was funny. All kinds of things used to be funny.
My appointment was quick. Downstairs, I claimed my car and got in. Closing the door for me, the valet looked at me and smiled.
“Get home safe,” he said.
What a remarkable thing to say, a truly remarkable thing I can’t recall any valet attendant ever saying to me in all my carefree years of parking. Maybe that’s what people in his family said to each other every day and for good reason. A lot of people, good people, weren’t getting home safe anymore, and not because they were bad drivers. Too many dads and moms, wives and husbands, sons and daughters, kindergartners and grandparents, young people, old people, neighbors, shopkeepers, nurses, veterans, and soldiers weren’t getting home at all.
Everywhere, every day, everyone just wants to get home, and some won’t have a home to get home to, or a street, or a city, or a country. Where will it end?
I can’t get his words out of my mind, so I’ll give them to you.
May all beings get home safe.
Photo by Marcus Bellamy on Unsplash