Walking. With Degenerate Guardian Angel.

~ Live & Learn

5:10 a.m. Morning Walk @ Cove Island Park.  471 consecutive days. Like in a Row.

77° F.  Light rain, high winds.  This climate change morphs into heavy rain with moderate winds.

Cloud cover 323%. Humidity, 933%.

I’m ready to fire, camera lens fogs up from the humidity. Hood cover can’t protect the lens from rain riding on wind gusts. I decided not to haul the backpack this morning. No rag to wipe the lens. Irritated.

I walk.

It’s dark. Up ahead, near a park bench, illuminated by the street lamp, there’s an empty take-out food carton on the bench, plastic forks, plastic knives, and napkins strewn on the grass. Highly Irritated.

Mind drifts back to Tuesday.  Man fishing at the point. He casts out into the Cove, his lure breaks the stillness of the water.

“Any luck?”

“No, but that’s OK. It’s just so peaceful and beautiful standing here, I can’t imagine being anywhere else at this moment.”

Gray hair, mid 70’s. He smiles, his white, straight teeth light up the morning. He stands looking at me. Me at him. He’s a kind looking man, a gentle man.

He reels in his line, and starts to pack up.

“I need to clean up a bit.”

“Clean up?” I ask.

He’s bending down to pick up trash discarded among the rocks along the shoreline.  An empty Perrier glass bottle. A fast food styrofoam container. Discarded cigarette box.

“It’s really disrespectful,” he says.

I had another stream of expletives for it but this man, so peaceful looking, possibly a man of clergy, didn’t deserve that, so I just nodded in agreement.

Dale’s post comes to mind. And then a vision of a degenerate Guardian Angel follows behind that. And there I float. Fifty feet above the shoreline.  Guardian Angel Garbage Vigilante. I’m holding a two-foot long, piece of rebar. I hover along with the wind currents, looking down, seeking an offender.  It doesn’t take long to find a defacator. I tap him (it’s always a him) on the shoulder, pointing back to his plastic cup. He looks up at me, and gives me the finger. I tap him on the shoulder again, asking “please”. He sniffs and keeps walking. I cock the rebar back (because I always carry rebar), it whistles through the air and crashes down across his left knuckles. He falls, writhing in the sand, reaching for his plastic cup.

“I did say please.”

Photo: DK @ Daybreak. 6:31 am, August 17, 2021. Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT.

40 thoughts on “Walking. With Degenerate Guardian Angel.”

  2. Great post, DK. I, too, am exorcised by people who litter. I pulled into the parking lot of David’s shop the other day, right behind a car that drove around to the back of the building and parked (there’s a nice view of the lake right behind us and people often eat lunch back there). Watched the guy turn off his car, open the door, and dump an empty water bottle out on the pavement. My BP spiked–he’s on private property *and* he’s throwing out his crap.

    So I calmly walked over, knocked on his window, and when he opened the door, I said, “Hi, I don’t think you’re aware, but when you opened your car door, a plastic bottle fell out and rolled under your car. I’d be grateful if you’d pick it up–hate to litter this beautiful spot.” The look on his face was priceless. He jumped out of the car, grabbed the bottle, hopped back in, started the car and left. Mission accomplished.

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    3. Lori, you’re fantastic. You reacted so calmy, politely and seemed ‘unaware’ of this person’s wrongdoing! I tire mon chapeau….
      I often used to say that too. But living in France for so long has taught me NOT to open my mouth in the street or metro; you never know – the person casually littering might carry a crowbar (I guess that wd be your rebar?!) in his backpack….

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  4. It drives me nuts. Every. Single. Day. I see dog shit, trash, litter of all sorts. It makes me even more crazy when the trash can is RIGHT THERE (like in my post you so kindly shared). Seriously people… this is your home, why do you disrespect it so much?

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  7. Dave, are you serious? You carry a dangerous wapon on you? Not to speak of all your electronics, technical encoutrements and clothes you always carry with you!? No wonder your back is worn out, your disks are slipping left and right and you’re having sleepless nights….
    And you did HIT that guy? He could have killed you – and then, where would we be, sans Dave?! (just kidding…. no, not really!). Either you’re crazy or crazed.
    btw, I couldn’t access Dale’s post nor watch the video – but I guess I can’t have everything.

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  8. Couldn’t pull up the video – and it undoubtedly couldn’t add to the emotional heft of your post…There is something so delicious about righteous indignation – the passion of it, the hands on hips with an exhaled “Humph!”. To crack the hand that committed the offense – even in one’s mind – bastard had it coming. And one can’t help but applaud that gentle man who clearly keeps his heart open to the possibility of the butterfly effect.

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  11. Reblogged this on It Is What It Is and commented:
    The earth is too good for humans!! … “It’s dark. Up ahead, near a park bench, illuminated by the street lamp, there’s an empty take-out food carton on the bench, plastic forks, plastic knives, and napkins strewn on the grass. Highly Irritated.”

    Liked by 1 person

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