4. Fucking Ducks

It's 5 p.m. and I'm riding home on the shaded paths in Bidwell Park after working in 104-degree heat.  I come around a bend by the Nature Center and I'm forced to stop my bike.  A group of elementary school children have entered the road without looking.  They're walking in two single file lines parallel to each other, and each pair of children is holding hands. Their counselor notices me and hollers for the kids to stop.  This forces the two in front of the line to see me, and they apologize. "Oh! We're so sorry.  Do you mind if we cross?"  The girl speaking to me appears to be about 12 years old.  She's polite, sincere.

"Not at all," I say, "as long as you quack like ducks."   I don't know why I said that.  Must have been the way they were walking.

Without missing a beat their counselor hollers, "Can you do that kids?"  and after a split-second of glances among themselves to honor potential  objections,  the girl in front says 'yes'.  In unison, and without pause, they begin quacking.  With their part of the agreement satisfied, they continue to cross the road.  

It's at that moment three adult hikers appear.  They come from around an uphill bend and enter the moment to find a line of quacking children.  The line has extended itself across the road so progress is halted.  The hikers stop to wait and do what most people would do. They break into a spontaneous burst of laughter.  I get it.  It's funny.  It's not something you expect to see.  

The kids continue quacking as they disappear up the hill.  They quack and march behind their mother.  I mean counselor.  I mean mallard.  Anyway,  the only blemish I noted in this otherwise perfect experience was the laughter. It genuinely appeared like the kids didn't get it.  A couple glanced at classmates as if to ask what it was about.  A couple more furrowed brows in frustration as if to say 'how rude'.  The rest just kept on quacking.

It wasn't until I got home that I saw the significance of the moment.  To those kids our encounter  was unremarkable, matter of fact.  They accidentally and unintentionally disrupted my route and when made aware of the breach they took responsibility, and apologized.  I accepted with a single condition proposed in a stupid, and unexpected question to which the children acquiesced. 

 Unremarkable.  Matter of fact. Not funny. 

Fucking kids.  It's always the fucking kids, isn't it?  There they go again reminding us just how lost we are and how little hope we have of finding our way back.  When will we snap out of it and pay attention?  In summary...

1) They had an objective they needed to accomplish.  2) They were asked if they could do one thing in exchange for assistance in accomplishing that objective.  3) They decided they could, so they did.  Dry.  Quite common.

They assisted in fulfilling my request because they were able to, and no one was harmed. Nobody, not a single one of them, called time-out to debate whether the request was lame or stupid.   They knew they could help with my moronic request, and if you can, you do.   It really is that fucking simple.

That's why the laughter didn't make sense.  The people laughing were focused on the wrong part of the interaction.  It wasn't about how the kids looked (like ducks). It was about what they were doing (helping me by honoring my request).  Since none of them stopped to consider they'd look silly quacking, that wasn't part of their equation.  There's nothing funny about being a Good Samaritan or being decent.  And decency was the only thing that went into the calculus of their decision.  

They had no idea that quacking in single file lines behind a maternal figure actually made them look like ducks (which, of course, made it even funnier).  Well, at least to the fucking adults.  Those fucking adults laugh at everything.  Even stuff that isn't funny, like the goodness in their own children.  Mother fucking butt chomping quack like ducks adults.  It is ALWAYS the fucking adults.

______________________________

I love moments like these, moments that teach me how much I have to learn.  I do my best to collect them in places like these.  They make the list of issues I have less relevant.  They expose what we've mistaken for truth, or importance, as the imposters that they are. Things like how much we make per year (about $6,000), or what kind of house we live in (one on wheels).

I like being reminded of how simple things are, and how beautiful they are.  Because let's get real.  They are.  You know you're experiencing something transformative or clarifying or grounding when it doesn't require an explanation.  I'm grateful for these moments because they make it easy to differentiate between those that are organic and the ones we propagate and sell.  

I had a good day today.  I worked alone doing something I'm good at and enjoy.  I was polite to those I encountered.  I didn't do anything stupid or that I'll need to lie about and hide.  I'm good with that, but I can do better.

I met a group of children today who I knew for just one minute.  They took my silly reply as something more serious and not a single one of them suggested it may make them look stupid if they actually did it.  

Stupid to who?  You?  Really?  You think you're that important?  Talk about a laugh-out-loud moment.

Actually, no, I don't. 

 Not anymore. 

 Not for quite some time, in fact.  But I appreciate the gentle reminder.

Fucking Children.  It's always the fucking children isn't it?  And sometimes the ducks.  Those fucking ducks.

Quack