Sunday, July 28, 2013
The pleasures of summer, Sandstromesquely speaking: art and Ann Arbor, music (Steely Dan -- perhaps my last live rock concert? if so, an excellent choice), the presence of too-absence girl children, and the weird joy of wandering into a vulture cage.
This last is hard to explain, even to myself. But imagine you were able to have a conversation, even a halting conversation, with a dinosaur. Would you enjoy it? Would the part you didn't understand intrigue you -- like half-comprehended song lyrics? Maybe it would.
And maybe you'd be a little thrilled by the prospect of being so close to something that really was not meant to be so close to you, as well as evidence that this creature, with its birdbrain, still communicates with specificity -- in a way that seems to offer evidence of personality.
I will not try to persuade you of the vulture's beauty; I'm boring myself with that line, though I still fervently believe it. Few others do, and we know who we are.
But I'll bet that if you had an opportunity to make friends with a dinosaur, such friendship attended, as it would be, by all sorts of hurdles and miscues and foreignness -- I'll bet you'd do it. I'll bet you'd like it.