THE BOOK OF DEBORAH

THE BOOK OF DEBORAH

BROTHER IT’S COLD OUTSIDE  2/2/24

It’s too cold to do any prophesizing from outside but looking out my window at the birds competing at the feeder inspired me. 

It worries me to think of all the creatures that live outdoors in this bone-chilling weather, especially the birds. How do they manage? Hollow-boned legs the size of pipe cleaners. Clawed feet even frailer. Feathered coats are as light as, well feathers.

I watch them standing on the snow-covered deck or in the debris-filled herb boxes I leave out for the winter. I’ll sometimes scatter seeds and nuts in them for the larger birds that have a tough time eating from the hanging feeder.

How the heck do they keep their bodies from freezing? Why don’t they go south? Geez if I had wings or could breathe underwater I sure as hell would be in the tropics by this time of year. Must be a reason I suppose.

Then I think about the people living, like me, in the most inhospitable places and wondering why we don’t move either. It’s not like we’re confined to one place. Or are we?

Maybe it’s because of the communities already established in these coveted locations. Not happy or very welcoming to the relocation of the invaders. Can’t blame them. They must wonder how beneficial to the neighborhood we would be. We haven’t even figured out that we could live there full-time.

And a problem could develop. Those places may begin looking like the topographical maps of life in, for instance, New York City. It’s ridiculous. Citizens smushed and mounded on top of one another and for what? What’s the redeeming reason for it?

Maybe there was a need for a close community a few centuries ago. But today, when the space they reside in is so limited a closet costs as much as a four-bedroom home in the suburbs. The neighborhoods are dirty and littered. The air is congested. I suppose it’s easier to get to the thinking jobs we believe are important. The big-money jobs that pay for all the cramped spaces and decorations.

The idea of community is still a wonderful concept. But are there many individuals today who would help you build your home or harvest your gardens? I wonder even if anyone late for work would stop if they saw you injured on the side of the street. Or would they drive past when they run over or notice an animal in the road?

What would happen if the doers who did all the manual laboring decided to fend for themselves only? The builders, the suppliers, the farmers. The ones who provide the means for the expensive shoeboxes and accessories that go with them. Oops, we can’t grow food with inventive advertising, or eat all those imaginative ideas, can we?

Have we become so self-absorbed that we expect the few to do the work of providing for the many? Seems that the thinkers contribute to society like parasites. Doing just enough to keep their hosts alive. Taking pride in achievements that don’t require getting up in the morning. Life would go on fine without them. 

Our survival is no longer tested. We make reasons for our existence. I used to think… ‘Thank goodness for politics and stock markets. At least these businesses keep people out of my hair.’ The problem now is I’m going bald. This Deborah needs a vacation from the cold. And I don’t mean the weather.