Saturday, August 15, 2009

breeding grounds

It never ceases to amaze me how different this country is. Different looking people with different views wearing different clothes and living in different kinds of houses in different parts of the country that vary from snow peaked mountains to desert basins and lots and lots of flat green and yellow land in between.

Right now I’m on a signing in the middle of some of that flat green land. Springfield, Missouri, land of the milky white and strip malls, one-story houses with brick siding and vast greenbelts broken up only by parking lots and matching one-story chain stores. I’m staying in a chain hotel (don’t I always though?) at the corner of National and Freedom. The local empires consist of names like “American Family Mortgage”, “Great American Outlet” and “Children’s Orchard”. The lawns are perfectly manicured and the streets are tree-lined and the American Flag flies high over little signs that have been stuck in the grass endorsing politicians running for mayor or the school board and it’s Democrat or Republican every time.

I’ve decided that this is where people come to breed. I saw a swing set for the first time in years. There were six (six!) swings hanging from chains and completely open to anyone who cared to walk up and use them. I’m wondering where the lawsuits were, or the helmets handed out by playground guards with clipboards who aspire to one day have more responsibility and take it out on their charges in the meantime. Moveable playground equipment was phased out with the budget surplus years ago. I can’t remember the last time I saw public swings in LA. We don’t like activities that our kids could potentially get scratched on out there. We prefer them to die slowly from the inside of Cheetos and inactivity. We’re especially fond of asthma.

I went jogging this morning, mostly out of awe at how smooth the pavement was. I just had to do something with it. I didn’t see a single cop, not even on a bike or horse. It was 7am and the neighborhoods were dead quiet. No cars rushing to sit in traffic. No dog walkers following their pets expectantly with plastic bags wrapped over their hands. No businesses were open save McDonald’s and Waffle House—both packed—and there were no cops or designer rescue dogs there either. Just people. Everyday people who still have everyday jobs. It was refreshing to see that these places still exist.