?

Log in

No account? Create an account

October 7th, 2011

pre-dawn

Last night I attended a meeting of the Garland Bar Association. Two county court at law judges gave a good talk on practice and procedures in their court. Later I listened to music from the classical guitarist Ana Vidovic'. I like that my mog.com subscription lets me look up and listen to someone I might not otherwise hear.

I noticed on last.fm that one of my listeners has listened to a number of my Creative Commons song from something called the "project union soundtrack". I hope this means my song is on some interesting soundtrack. I left the listener, a young man in India, a shoutbox message to see if I can find out.

Beatrice woke me at 3 a.m. to take her out. We close the dog door at night now, because otherwise Beatrice is apt to bark pre-dawn at bunnies. Waking up in the pre-dawn may be good for me, or so I will tell myself.

with a paddle


my rental canoe, originally uploaded by gurdonark.

Did you ever have a moment when you hoped, a bit against hope, that some anonymous stranger would throw you out a line? Not a life-line, exactly, and certainly not a pick-up line, but just a modest vine or rope to get you out of a ravine? I have those moments from time to time. Today I had one of those moments as I went to pick up my mail. You see, for the second time this year, I mislaid my driver's license. I had pretty much exhausted places to look. Since I live in Texas, getting a replacement license can require hours in line. It's a long story why this is so, when, in a more enlightened, less "business-like" era, this was not so.

As I proceeded to the mailbox, I thought, "if someone found my license, this would be about the time it arrived in the mail". Sure enough, in the mailbox, amid catalogs and a letter from the local contemporary classical music society thanking me for a modest donation, I found a letter addressed to my surname, with the return address my surname and address. Inside the letter was my license, hidden within a folded red index card. No note, no credit, no identifiers, other than a Little Rock postmark. I assume someone found it in Camden.

I love Little Rock. It's where I went to law school. Tonight, though, it's simply a place from which a random act of kindness emanated--like handing me a paddle, when I was in the middle of a lake, in a canoe.