Risk

Cory drives past a group of teens wearing jeans way too big for them and baseball caps with their brims flattened and backwards. That was the style these days. He sighed.

The best part of his job was that he got to know his town. On the surface, he patrolled the streets every day looking for crime, but he was really doing more. He was seeing, watching people and places and things. And he loved the places and things. The people, though, had some problems. Not the problems that he death with – theft, drugs, homicide – no, they were more common than these. The people didn’t see like he did. They completely missed the beauty of everything around them – of these places and things. See, this small town about 20 miles outside of L.A. was just as thrilling, unique, and interesting as anywhere in the city that so many idolized. But people were just too worried about being like the gods and goddesses that TV told them were who ruled the world. Maybe if they look and act exactly like them, they could be them. And actually, they’re exactly right. Those lives are shallow.

On the other side of town, Cory passes a man selling replicas of old, Egyptian and Greek looking artifacts. He reverses his car back to the curb in front of this vendor, and steps out of the squad car. The wrinkled and squinting man fidgets but Cory lets him know that everything is fine. These things are beautiful, Cory thinks. It turns out this man carved them all out of wood and clay. Cory buys a couple of the smaller ones, and the artist is thrilled. These are the people, places, and things we need to see.

~ by doug on April 13, 2008.