Wednesday, May 1, 2013

Special Report: Peepers trump can of worms!

I almost got caught up in a can of worms this week, which gives me a shiver because we all know where worms in a can can end up, stuck on a hook on the end of a fishing line where they wriggle and kick until … you know. They get caught. By a big fish. Or they get nibbled away at, slowly, agonizingly slowly, by big fish and small, until, well, until they are just a lump of goo on a hook on the end of a fishing line. Either way, not much of a life, unless you like that sort of thing.

I was in this can of worms and I could see myself in it and it’s not like I just suddenly looked around and was, like, ew, gross, I’m in this can of worms; rather, it was more like, crimeny, how can people stand there with their arms crossed and tell me things that are simply not true? I need to stand up for myself, for what I know is true. I should, at least, … Well, there you are. Or there I am. In this can of worms. The can of worms being, of course, an analogy for politics, not, in this instance, the politics of politics, but rather the politics of a small-to-middlin’ organization consisting of, of course, humans, not worms. I have never learned the art of politics, and it wasn’t until I began to sense my very own worminess that I realized what was happening, that I was getting sucked into this can of worms and that I better get out. So I wrote and sent a concession letter, stepped out on the porch, received my reward: Peepers!

The air—the dark, soft, warm, moist night air—was filled with the sound of peepers. The frogs are out! They’re mating! They’re singing! And it is the purest song of spring. I tried to record the peepers, but they were, to some extent, being drowned out by the rushing creek, usually dry, now full of snow melt, and thunder from the river. The river is surging with so much snow melt that it is twice its size. On top of all that, every now and then a bird (I imagined a large bird with a drooping head and a long, skinny beak) was letting out a loud “eep!” This is kinda what it sounded like.



I don’t like being pushed around, being put off with lame excuses, being lied to and subjected to the kinds of smirks and comments that are often made when one person hopes to belittle another, any more than the next person likes it. And I really don’t like getting involved in the politics that allow—or perhaps cause—people to act this way. Kinda wish I had the skills to deal with it better. But for now, hopping out of the can of worms, listening to the peepers, that works.


Now back to our regularly scheduled post.