Meet sixteen-year-old Becky. In 2004 she stepped off of a school bus and was struck by a truck. She died two days later. Unfortunately, it took her death to spring new, much needed bus safety regulations to life.
We cope with so many unpredictable risks every day that the predictable ones are frustrating. Faith in a system and in people to keep us and our children safe is not nearly enough. Becky's cross laden with flowers and her name written on the top beam is a commute landmark and a solemn reminder that these streets are painfully honest and volatile.
Day two-hundred is dedicated to Rebecca McKinney.
Meet twenty-six-year old Keith. One reckless night this past February, Keith and his girlfriend, among other friends, were clocked at over 127 MPH on their motorcycles, heading over a bridge I drive every day. There are conflicting reports of exactly why the crash occurred, but Keith was ejected from his bike and died shortly thereafter, his girlfriend sustained critical injuries. Despite the ultimate cause of the incident, whether the situation was exasperated by highway patrol in pursuit or not, this was a case of pushing risk to the outer limits. Some people just dare to live on the edge. Faith in a combination of fate and luck is just not nearly enough. Keith's motorcycle helmet affixed atop his cross, the memorial is a commute landmark and a solemn reminder that these streets are unforgiving, relentless and should not be toyed with.
Day two-hundred is also dedicated to Keith Williamson and his girlfriend, Jenna.
Meet Sunset McMullen, age unknown. Another commute landmark, she eternally pushes a small dog in a stroller on the same stretch of sidewalk, day by day. Bleached, platinum blond perm, or possibly a wig, blue, terrycloth, spaghetti-strap top, short shorts and flip flops, some things never change. Including her costume. She is not of this time and she is timeless all at once. Might we have another time traveler in our midst? Does anyone else notice this veteran of life, walking back and forth with her little fur baby in a stroller, every single day? Is she even real? Sunset is a living landmark and a reminder that these streets nurture routine and make it all too easy to forget just how unforgiving, volatile and relentless they can be.
Day two-hundred is also dedicated to Sunset McMullen.
Sunset McMullen, a namesake given due to the intersection where I see her regularly, is a commute fixture as much as Becky and Keith. Each adding their personal touch to my routine. Reminders of innocence, of daring risks, of mortality and of timelessness. Of patterns and routines and sequences. Becky, Keith and Sunset each raise more questions than they can possibly answer.
Day two-hundred is also dedicated to all of those answers that we may never find and also dedicated to those necessary questions, despite the expectation or lack thereof.
I jazz my hands this morning for the innocent, for the risk takers, for the bleached blond wig wearers and little dogs in strollers. I jazz my hands this morning to questions that will never be answered.
Day two-hundred complete.
No comments:
Post a Comment