Upon a Sunny Day

I am sort of waiting on the moon. Kind of like Linus waiting on the Great Pumpkin. Well, it’s October, so that analogy came to mind. The moon is supposed to be especially great tonight. I caught a glimpse yesterday, and it was bright. It is a Supermoon. Or Hunter’s Moon. You probably already knew that. Or you don’t care.

I think I’m also sort of hiding out on my back porch. I have my colored lights on. They are technically Christmas lights, but it is not Christmas season and I’ve had them up since spring. I like the addition. I was previously more of a front porch sitter. But at some point, earlier this year, that changed. I have a really great front porch for sitting. I just don’t care to be up there so much anymore.

Sirens. People walking by. Someone might want to talk. If I’m up front. There are a lot of sidewalk walkers on my street. And sometimes, well most of the time, I’d rather not talk. I once upon a time thought I should be up there and readily available to talk. Interact. Be a part of the neighborhood scene. But not so much anymore. Oh, I don’t want to be rude. I think I’m just rather tired.

My back porch provides a view of downtown. Well, as much of a downtown view as Lexington offers. And like I mentioned above, my lights. I created a Spotify playlist I have titled “Melancholy Females”. I am listening. Whether or not the female musicians on said list are truly melancholy in personality type really doesn’t matter. The particular songs could be described, by me at least, as such, therefore the label. I can also hear crickets and some kids in the distance. The East End voices. The neighborhood beyond the railroad tracks. I am considered a north side resident. NOLI to be precise. North Limestone. Interesting. The names we have for places and people and things. Like someone thought, “oh, we can be like SOHO…let’s do it!” So they did and we have our own little cutesy name. Even though we’re quite the far cry from SOHO.

Some people on the north side were vandalized recently. Red spray paint. The word “racsit”.  Yes, spelled incorrectly. Unsettling nonetheless. Labeled racist because they had a Black Lives Matter sign on their lawn. My neighborhood. Lovely.

Sometimes I wonder, if I’d been alive and old enough in 1963, if I’d have been involved in the Civil Rights Movement. One of my favorite stories my dad sometimes mentions is taking my mom to a Peter, Paul and Mary concert when they were dating….and I wonder if I would have been a fan. Or if I’d have taken the song lyrics seriously. If I’d have lived it. It’s easy for a white person to pick and choose though, right? Dabble in this, meander over here for a while. Always knowing I can come back. To wherever I started.

And I ask myself sometimes if I do enough now. And I tell myself yes. Yes, of course I do. But who knows? I can site examples of much work I do but if it’s enough? Not sure. The people I admire most are the people who live their lives, setting an example. Quietly going about their business, helping people. But I suppose it takes all kinds of people to make the world go around and I’m not sure if I do enough. I’m not one to place a sign in my yard or a bumper sticker on my car. I don’t run around screaming and when people say we need to dialogue more I am apprehensive. Because we always invite the same people to dialogue and we don’t seem to be getting very far with them. So maybe we either need to stop talking and do something….or invite some other people to the discussion.

A girl got shot. Early, early this morning. Then died. She was 15 years old and her family is well known so it made Sports Center. And kids I know knew her or of her and it’s a lot. Another young lady was recently shot and killed. Walking down a street. And a week and a half ago a woman was shot in the middle of the night. Across the street from my house. Shot in the hip so I’m guessing she survived and I’m simultaneously guessing it was a “domestic dispute” but nonetheless. Someone shot her with a gun. And all that is unsettling.

Not unsettling to the point I’m afraid. I’m not afraid I’ll get shot. Or accosted. I doubt the red spray painters have witnessed me driving kids from the after school program around. So they won’t label me as a racist. After all, I don’t have a sign out front.

But it’s what I am thinking about as I await the moon. Which I’m starting to think is going to take a while to arrive in its glory. Listening to a song called Rainsong by Rachael Yamagata that makes me sad. And I realize I probably should be listening to my Spotify list entitled “Sunshine” instead of this particular one. Sunday night is not the best time to get down. Full week ahead and all. And it’s going to be a full one. I just repeated myself. Biggest fundraiser of the year for my workplace. Not the time to speculate or contemplate or listen to sad songs. Yet that’s where I find myself. Compartmentalization has never been my forte.