Monday Night

From where I sit, I can see into our kitchen. (Actually, from where I sit, I can see most of the apartment, and from almost anywhere in the apartment, I can see into the kitchen.) There is something flying in the kitchen, but I don’t feel like pursuing it. My wife and I just split a slice of cake from Whole Foods. It was delicious, but we didn’t need it, and now I’m regretting having eaten it. I’m trying to lose weight, and cake slices aren’t helpful in that project.

Earlier this evening, I went for a walk and a car whipped out of a parking lot without looking or slowing down, nearly taking me out of the game. A young guy on a motorcycle can be heard tearing up and down our street. He likes to go as fast as possible on his crotch-rocket, making an ungodly amount of noise. He thinks because he is very loud he is very cool. He is not cool; he’s just an asshole.

I shouldn’t say that. Maybe he’s not an asshole, just young. I was a jerk in a hundred ways when I was young. Boys like noise. In grade school, we put playing cards between the spokes of our bikes to make them louder. When I got my own car in my 20s, I liked to play the radio at top volume so everyone could hear how cool I was because of my fine taste in music. Now I’m still a jerk in a hundred ways, but they are different ways.

It would be great if none of us were ever jerks. I try to be one of the good folks, but don’t always succeed. I’m not a big fan of Paul of Tarsus, but I understand him when he writes, “The desire to do good is inside of me, but I can’t do it. I don’t do the good that I want to do, but I do the evil that I don’t want to do.” (Rom 7:18-19, CEB)

So tonight, I’ll try not to hate the lady who nearly ran me over, the guy on his obnoxious bike, politicians on the other side of the fence, and even my grade school gym teacher, whom I have a hard time thinking about even after all these years without loathing. Maybe we could all try this.