Normally I'm Not a Litterbug But . . .

Part of the issue that recent day was the wind. I’m not a big fan of the cold but I’m an even bigger non-fan of the wind. It was huffing and puffing and blowing cold air swirls all around me. I stepped out of my truck and glanced at my To Do list on a yellow Post-it note as I walked down the sidewalk. Suddenly and without warning, a blustery puff of whirling dervish viciously snatched the Post-it note from my grasp and forced it to dance aimlessly through the morning sky. To paraphrase, basically my note became litter. And I’m less of a fan of litter than I am ice cold wind gusts. Therefore, at that moment, I was faced with a dilemma. Would I chase this soda cracker sized scrap of paper or simply wave it goodbye and grant it liberty and freedom. My mind raced back to those embarrassing occasions when I’ve driven along in my truck and trash flies out of the back and into the road ahead of oncoming traffic. When that happens I want to stop my truck in the middle of the road, block all the traffic, grab a megaphone and announce to everyone, “Hey, can I help it if inconsiderate people take it upon themselves to toss pieces of trash in the back of my truck all the time without me knowing? I wash my hands of this.” And then there’s that Indian in the commercial. I guess I should say Native American now. Us old-timers remember the whole deal where the noble chief is looking out over the land he settled and is forced to bear witness to all the trash that’s been scattered to and fro. I can still see that tear rolling down his cheek and to this day the thought of it bothers me. So on that blustery, cold day, I had a choice. Pursue and detain or abstain and liberate. Quickly I counted the costs. The note had long since darted to the opposite side of a road busily supported by zooming traffic. Was one little scrap worth my personal safety and potential well-being? I wasn’t completely sure of its exact whereabouts. I gave chase for a moment or two but in the end decided that my Native American friend would surely understand in this instance. Besides, other than me, who would know anyway? It was like a lot of things we hope nobody else will ever notice. Like when you forget to wear a belt or your socks don’t match. Or when you’ve got something peeking out of the corner of one of your nostrils. Or when you get tongue-tied and accidentally say a bad word. That sorta thing. Just as my guilt was subsiding I turned and saw a car slowing and the passenger’s side window being lowered. A woman from my church hollered, “Hey, go pick up that piece of trash you Litterbug!” She then broke out in laughter as my already red face evolved into a shade of purple. So much for nobody noticing. I knew, Church Lady knew, and somewhere in the distance, I think the chief knew. But I refuse to lose any sleep over a sticky note. I’ve decided it was the wind’s fault. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.