He Really, Really Loves Her
Filed under graffiti
Please tell me that his “canvas” wasn’t the last living bamboo of a particular species.
When I was standing near the General Sherman Tree at Sequoia Nat’l Park some years back I saw a guy directing his wife to pose for a photo. He said, “Stand over there, honey!”. I asked him if he could read. He was, understandably, pissed at my insult. I said, “Well, there’s a sign, right there, that says not to go where you’ve sent your wife. His reply was along the lines of “she ain’t hurtin’ nothin. I just shook my head and walked away. In retrospect I really wish I had taken his wife’s photo and one of his license plate and given it to the rangers on duty.
I said, “Well, there’s a sign, right there, that says not to go where you’ve sent your wife. His reply was along the lines of “she ain’t hurtin’ nothin.
Did you hear about the three hikers who drowned at Yosemite last weekend from doing exactly that: going where a sign said not to? They got swept over Yosemite Falls.
A tragic story, which was so easily prevented.
I guess I did hear about it. The headline was something like “No new safety signs will be installed.”
Couldn’t help remembering Richard Ford’s short story, The Abyss in which two real estate agents cheating on their respective wives discover they have very little in common outside of the bedroom. She wants the climax of their tryst to be a spiritual journey to the Grand Canyon. He is only bored riding along in the car. Desperately trying to save her joy, she asks him to take a picture of her on the wrong side of the safety wall. Just as starkly real as was Ford’s description of the desert bugs flitting around in the outdoor light of the cheap hotel is his startling depiction of her two hundred foot tumble. A true short story moment. She doesn’t make a sound. He crawls over the wall himself on hands and knees to get to where he can see her crumpled form. My goodness!
Respective spouses, that is.
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