There is a dove living in the marquee of the Centre Movie Theatre downtown. I saw it as I was stopped at a red light on my way to work yesterday and I could have kicked myself for not having my camera in my purse. Sightings such as pigeons or doves are not a common occurrence around here, so unless you’re at the city dump, a pigeon, let alone a dove, one will never see. I sat there in awe watching it flutter around the red lettering, spreading it’s wings and giving a few pecks to the letter ‘R’ of Monster University. Suddenly I watched it creep into a small space where the plexiglass was broken and the metal arch was damaged. Bits of straw were hanging out of the hole which told me that there was a nest in there. That is where the dove decided to make it’s home, someplace sheltered, out of the wind and rain, and other than the noise from the streets, probably served a reasonable amount of privacy. So why is it that a bird can seek refuge in a downtown marquee and make it a place to call home, yet, we don’t consider the bird to be “homeless?” If this were a person seeking shelter in the same way, living in an abandoned building or under the bridge over the canal by The Lodge At Lone Tree Retirement Community, people would find it a disgrace. They already have and the police sent the bums packing! Maybe it’s because the dove can keep itself clean while still living on the streets, but with time, a street person starts to smell like pee and b.o.? A dove wouldn’t panhandle like a bum would. The dove wouldn’t be drunk or huffing hairspray behind the drug store either. Maybe the balance of the whole situation is just comparing as to what’s in sync with nature, and what’s just too damn drunk!
Today my five year old grandson and I were watching You Tube videos on how sand crabs walk sideways. The creatures were small enough to fit in one’s hand, and so delicate that squeezing it too hard would be life threatening. At one point in time, the lady in the video said to the viewers, “Touch the crabs underbelly and feel how smooth it is.” Rylan turned to me and said with disappointment, “I want to touch that crab too, Grandma, but I don’t know how to get there.” (He would’ve had to travel to the shores of New Jersey to get there. Not exactly a hop, skip and a jump from Montana). Yet, I think at some point in time we all have things we’d like to do but don’t exactly know how to get there. I know I’ve always wanted to learn how to apply eyeshadow with the same professionalism as creating a watercolor painting, but I don’t exactly know how to get there. I guess I’ll take my college professor’s advice and use whatever and whoever in order to create baby steps. Maybe I’ll even do it walking sideways.