Suppressed Anger.

A couple of years ago a friend of mine moved from Seattle to a small town in Virginia, about 30 miles from Blacksburg, home of Virginia Tech University. I emailed him earlier this week to make sure everything was okay with him and his family. It was.

He gave me a Virginia Tech t-shirt last year and I considered wearing it after the shooting this week, but I decided that the man-on-the-street may not want to be reminded of a tragedy via t-shirt. So it remains buried in the bottom of a dresser drawer.

Some folks a couple of blocks from me are hanging a Virginia Tech banner from their balcony. Their intentions are undoubtedly benevolent -- a tribute and a memorial. (Perhaps they are alumni?) But I wonder how their immediate neighbors feel about this constant reminder.

In my old apartment, "Impeach Bush" and "No Iraq War" signs hung proudly in my window. But now that I live where I do, in a quieter neighborhood with quieter neighbors, I leave those signs buried in the bottom of a dresser drawer.

Something In The Way.

Seattle's gone tree crazy and that's a good thing. The city is planting trees by the truckload and this will beautify the landscape and freshen the urban air. A neighbor of mine is a Seattle Tree Steward. She organizes mass tree plantings every few months, and over the past several years has planted hundreds and hundreds of trees.

These trees got screwed.

Instead of winding up next to a park, near a school or even in a simple planting strip, they are under the freeway. I've always wondered what it would've been like to be born into a life of extreme privelege. No need to ask these trees; they are arboreal crack babies. Hopefully what doesn't kill them will make them stronger.

Culture Clashes.

Today marks the beginning of this couch's third week on the curb. I suppose the folks who placed it there are waiting to see if the garbage collectors will pick it up. They didn't touch it two weeks ago. Or last week. Maybe today?!

Meanwhile, half a block away, two houses side-by-side have gone up for sale. One is listed at $760,000, the other at $880,000. Will the folks shopping for a house that is pushing the million-dollar mark want to live on a street where couches linger? Perhaps they'll find it kitschy. If I were these sellers, however, I don't think I'd take that chance. I'd borrow a pick-up truck, drive half a mile to the dump and get rid of this thing.

Yesterday evening riding my bike up Densmore Avenue, I saw a man in Eddie Bauer gortex "watering" the plush lawn on his large corner lot. Attached to the hose's nozzle was a green plastic jug. As I rode by, the middle-aged woman in the patch-work house next door, hippie skirt blowing in the breeze, asked the man: "Are you spraying poison on your lawn?" I think this relationship is in trouble.