It’s 5:30 a.m. the day after Memorial Day and I’m out jogging. I go out at this time because there’s not much likelihood of encountering many other people. Oh, I know others are awake, but few are out on the trail at this time of morning. I’m made a bit sad by the amount of trash I see along the path. Yesterday turned into a pleasant afternoon and I suspect lots of people were out here then. I even find the remains of some kind of homemade fireworks launcher, reminding me that it was supposed to be a patriotic holiday. I’ve seen an uptick in Trump signs around here and I wonder if it has anything to do with the rampant somebody elsism that I see strewn along my jogging trail.
Somebody elsism is the attitude that I can make a mess of things and let somebody else deal with it. (It’s my right as an American!) Maybe you’ve seen it too. The doggie doo-doo bags that are filled and left beside the trail for somebody else to pick up and dispose of. It’s my right to own a dog, and although I may feel compelled to bag its leavings, somebody else will have to throw it away. The idea’s pretty rampant. I’ve even found such things on my front sidewalk. I suspect this is a chapter in the myth of rugged individualism. I have a right, but somebody else has the duty.
Life itself is like this, I guess. We have to leave wills to help those left behind sort out the various messes we’ve made in our lifetimes. Still, the Trump administration has all been about somebody elsism. There is no such thing as controlled chaos. The coronavirus should have taught us that, if we hadn’t figured it out long before. Living together with other people requires a commitment to some basic things. As much as I dislike yardwork, you can’t own a house and let the plants take over. Your wild growth will seed somebody else’s weeds. I’d rather be sitting inside reading. It’s a holiday weekend and I have so little time to read during the week. Won’t somebody else take care of the grass that has been loving the rain and warmer temperatures? If only. So I’m out jogging early, but I have to wait until it’s light. There are so many things you can’t see before twilight kicks in, and unless somebody else picks them up I’m bound to step in them.