Monday, December 04, 2006


What the Cowardly Lion lusted for it and Dan Rather punctuated with. Courage.

I'm not sure if I have any. I'm thinking I don't. I've never been tested. I've been in fights. But those were mostly fuel by liquor and boredom. I've been thinking of soldiers, airmen, and sailors. What they must go through? How do they muster that courage? Especially Marines. I've been dealing alot with a Marine father in law. How do these guys do what they do?

I worry about not paying a bill. So I decided to test myself.

Depending on traffic, about 25% of the time, I have to go through what many consider a bad neighborhood. I drive the west to east length of Liberty Street - where downtown meets bad 1960s public policy. I once had the cops tackle a guy on the hood of my Saturn. Nobody paid any attention to me. I drove on.

Anyway, to test my bravery, I decided I'd roll down the window and sing aloud to something very white. Country grates on my nerves, so this was mostly alternative - adult aternative to be specific. And some Beatles. Pretty white, I thought. I've been slowly working my way traffic light by traffic light. The furthest I've made it is three blocks. That's only because they were all green. Stopped at a light is worst. If you're not surrounded on both sides by cars, then there's a pedestrian in no hurry to go anywhere peering into your car.

Anyway, I've failed so far. Last Thursday I drove down that stretch again. I went classic this time. Golden Earring's Radar Love. No matter what the race or creed or sexual orientation - who doesn't like 1970s Dutch rockers?

So I belting it out. It's not a sond for stop and go traffic, but I'm make my way. I lasted up until "One more rader lover gone.." and was about to launch into my verbal rendition of that ripping part "When I'm feeling lonely....". I'm even doing the guitar action. Then I feel the stares. They are burning into me. Curiousity trumps Courage. I know I shouldn't but I look over to my driver's side. There - in a tricked out Buick La Sabre with spinners spinning are two urban youths complete with a set of grills and oversized coats laughing their asses off at me.

I couldn't take it. I broke down laughing, then made quick right as they went forward. I drove around the block; windows rolled up. Quiet. The radio wasn't even on.

I hope Uncle Sam never needs me. I can't even take wounded pride.

Stay You.
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