by Kim Evans
I’m driving home from a fun-filled Labor Day weekend with family in Chicago. The dome light shines on my page. Wind rushes through the moon roof. A semi-truck roars by me on the passenger side.
“Winds of Change.” I see these words pass by on a billboard along the interstate. At night billboards appear like illuminated messages floating through space. Signs are everywhere. I recently saw a sign that read “A Call to Consciousness” outside a church when I was in the process of deciding to take a step into a new chapter of my life. And now I notice a yellow road sign that reads “Watch For Ice on Bridges.”
Winds of Change ... A Call to Consciousness ... Watch For Ice on Bridges .
My thoughts go to images of angry people at town hall meetings. One such photograph was on the front page of this newspaper. I am disturbed by those who are being influenced by the fear mongering, allowing themselves to be manipulated without learning the facts. It’s so much easier to let others do the thinking. I wish people would suspend judgment and emotion long enough to do some research, then engage in a civilized exchange of ideas.
Emotions are so high right now. Emotions cloud thinking. It is painful to watch people rage at one another. And now with electronic communications, it is too easy to push the send button and spread negativity to others, even those in one’s own family, one’s own flesh and blood.
Winds of Change ... A Call to Consciousness ... Watch For Ice on Bridges .
This late night drive continues to activate the right side of my brain. The color red transports me back to the scene in the tailgate area before the IU football game last Thursday. We park a few blocks south of 17th Street, and are treated to a walk through a sea of drunken college students. I’m a little stunned at this public display; if this type of consumption must occur, isn’t it best limited to private residences and bars?
My 11-year-old daughter points to a group of red T-shirt-clad young men and women preparing to drink beer from a tube attached to a funnel. She asks “What’s that, Mom?” I don’t want to lie to her; nor do I want to ignore her question. So I respond, “That’s called a beer bong, honey. It allows someone to drink a whole bunch of beer really fast, basically by-passing the process of swallowing, and pouring it straight into their stomach.” I tell it like it is. She cringes.
I draw a parallel between beer bong consumption and fear-mongering. They both recklessly bypass the intended channels of consumption. No swallowing of beer. No examination of facts. Straight to the stomach. Instant gratification is the quickest way to the desired effects. A jolt into an altered state of consciousness is so much easier than a thoughtful one.
It’s getting late. We leave during the third quarter of the football game, and pass a group of red-eyed students staggering into Gate 14. I wonder if they will be able to navigate the stairs. Walking south of 17th Street again, we pass the lawn littered with empty Natural Light cases, beer cans and bottles. A uniformed crew appears to be preparing to clean up the mess left behind. There is no connection between the individuals who participated in the mass consumption and the clean-up of their mess.
Winds of Change ... Call to Consciousness ... Watch For Ice on Bridges .
Sometimes messages come from interesting places.
This column appears in the 9/10/09 issue of the Herald-Times newspaper, Bloomington, IN
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