The Empty Beach
When I was very young, I wanted to drive a police car. It's the kind of obsession you have when you're a guy in junior high; at that age, you're not permitted to drive any kind of car, so the appeal of driving a special car that's allowed to go faster than other cars on the road is very strong indeed.
Of course, when I got to be an adult, and friends I had growing up became police officers, I began to understand that this is not something police officers are handed as a perk. They get to drive that fast because they need to get to some other location quickly, and while that sounds fun at first, you remember that they're rushing to that other place precisely because it's a place where police officers are needed.
It's one thing to read in the news about a crazy person with a gun engaged in some nutty business in a public place. It would be entirely another to have your boss tell you about the incident while it's ongoing, and assign the responsiblity of dealing with that situation to you.
A few years ago, I was at an intersection waiting in the left turn lane. This is one of those left turn lights that feels like it takes a long time. There was one car waiting to turn left in front of me, and I was second in line.
As we're waiting, we hear the wail of sirens in the distance. An ambulance approaches in the oncoming traffic, creeping along through cars trying to clear a path for it to get through, and it passes the intersection while our left turn signal is green. It's timed perfectly: it's close to the intersection when our signal goes green, and our signal goes back to red just before it gets out of our way. Left turn: denied.
So I wait, as the normal traffic flow at the intersection proceeds around me. I notice that the couple in the car in front of me are visibly losing their shit, frustrated that they missed their chance to turn and now have to wait longer.
As our turn approaches again, the cycle repeats itself: a distant siren approaches, and it's immmediately obvious that history is about to repeat itself. Sure enough, the light turns green just at the very moment the ambulance approaches in oncoming traffic, and turns back to red just after the ambulance has creeped through. Left turn: denied, again.
What astonished me is just how palpable the anger was of the people in the car ahead of me. I can't hear a word the man or the woman in this car are saying. I can only see the backs of their heads. But I can feel their animosity. Their heads bounce around in consternation, their fists clenched and oscillating around wildly. It might be reasonable to have to yield to the EMTs for one light cycle...but two in a row? I guess they felt it was a bridge too far. When the left turn signal finally turned green for us, they floored it through the section and zoomed off down the street, leaving behind the proverbial stench of burnt rubber and impatience.
The medics come for all of us in the end. This is the great equalizer. To me, it's not a time for anger.
I don't consider myself a mature person, but I have my moments. One of them is when emergency sirens wail in the distance. They trigger a Pavlovian response in which I express a secret wish to myself, to the universe, to no one in particular, that I hope the responders involved in the situation get where they're going safely, that the situation resolves with minimal injury or loss of life, and that there's not a ton of paperwork that needs to be done after the fact. It's an at least daily reminder to me that there are droves of people in our world whose job it is to come to my assistance, when and if I should need it.
The world is full of more generosity than I can conceivably understand.
Of course, when I got to be an adult, and friends I had growing up became police officers, I began to understand that this is not something police officers are handed as a perk. They get to drive that fast because they need to get to some other location quickly, and while that sounds fun at first, you remember that they're rushing to that other place precisely because it's a place where police officers are needed.
It's one thing to read in the news about a crazy person with a gun engaged in some nutty business in a public place. It would be entirely another to have your boss tell you about the incident while it's ongoing, and assign the responsiblity of dealing with that situation to you.
A few years ago, I was at an intersection waiting in the left turn lane. This is one of those left turn lights that feels like it takes a long time. There was one car waiting to turn left in front of me, and I was second in line.
As we're waiting, we hear the wail of sirens in the distance. An ambulance approaches in the oncoming traffic, creeping along through cars trying to clear a path for it to get through, and it passes the intersection while our left turn signal is green. It's timed perfectly: it's close to the intersection when our signal goes green, and our signal goes back to red just before it gets out of our way. Left turn: denied.
So I wait, as the normal traffic flow at the intersection proceeds around me. I notice that the couple in the car in front of me are visibly losing their shit, frustrated that they missed their chance to turn and now have to wait longer.
As our turn approaches again, the cycle repeats itself: a distant siren approaches, and it's immmediately obvious that history is about to repeat itself. Sure enough, the light turns green just at the very moment the ambulance approaches in oncoming traffic, and turns back to red just after the ambulance has creeped through. Left turn: denied, again.
What astonished me is just how palpable the anger was of the people in the car ahead of me. I can't hear a word the man or the woman in this car are saying. I can only see the backs of their heads. But I can feel their animosity. Their heads bounce around in consternation, their fists clenched and oscillating around wildly. It might be reasonable to have to yield to the EMTs for one light cycle...but two in a row? I guess they felt it was a bridge too far. When the left turn signal finally turned green for us, they floored it through the section and zoomed off down the street, leaving behind the proverbial stench of burnt rubber and impatience.
The medics come for all of us in the end. This is the great equalizer. To me, it's not a time for anger.
I don't consider myself a mature person, but I have my moments. One of them is when emergency sirens wail in the distance. They trigger a Pavlovian response in which I express a secret wish to myself, to the universe, to no one in particular, that I hope the responders involved in the situation get where they're going safely, that the situation resolves with minimal injury or loss of life, and that there's not a ton of paperwork that needs to be done after the fact. It's an at least daily reminder to me that there are droves of people in our world whose job it is to come to my assistance, when and if I should need it.
The world is full of more generosity than I can conceivably understand.