Summer Preachin'... (and Rehab)

The trophy-sized, loud- mouthed crow parked itself on a branch directly across from my bedroom window and let loose with a blare and a blast that could be heard all the way to Armageddon. It was 6:00 a.m. on Flag Day, but I wasn’t angry. Instead, with the sun having already been up for around an hour, I felt a tinge of guilt that I had already wasted away an important part of the day. (I do not have these feelings in the cold, rainy autumn or icy, soul-chilling winter. But in the summer I try to practice the art of SIESTA, so I try to tack on a hour or two on the morningside.) I threw on some light clothes---temp already mid-70’s--- and headed off for a walk by the lake.



I sat on my favorite clump of rocks overlooking the harbor, Lake Michigan, and the slightly hazy Chicago skyline, still looking ever so much like the Emerald City. (“You’re out of the woods, you’re out of the dark, you’re into the light…”) The massive but graceful gulls, already hard at work gathering food, did a flyover and decided I was not worthy. Down below by the rocks the ducks were taking off for casual swims around the canal, in two-somes and three-somes, except for a single mama who sat on a rock in the sun, preening herself the whole time. The not-much-luck fishermen on the pier talked to their dogs and other fishermen.

Everywhere God’s creatures acting more or less on instinct, waking each morning and following the marching orders of their DNA and their Creator, a simple morning prayer.
The hoards of cars on nearby Lake Shore Drive depressed me, but maybe they too were on missions almost as worthy as the ducks and the gulls.
These were deep thoughts for me, and I said so to myself: “These are deep thoughts.”

Coming out of this momentary profundity, I noticed the ducks in formation, swimming in my direction.



The gulls too were landing nearby. Nature, it seemed, was waiting for my sermon, my words of enlightenment. This was Padua! I was their St. Anthony!! They were my congregation!! I stood on the rocks and just as I inhaled to begin my homily, the mama duck let out a huge quack which scattered the gulls, honking like the cars on the drive, which in turn startled the ducks, sending them paddling to less-religious inlets.



I realized they were not my congregation; I was supposed to be theirs. They were sent by the creator not to gather around and pay heed, but to tell me to shut up and listen and watch! I was getting hooked on my own deep thoughts and they were sent by the divine to ---yes,----
INTERVENE.