As always, the world is going to hell in a handbasket. And now I have to read about it. My old AOL was stuck on some news about investing money for four years, but since my computer crashed, I had to update and now I see the headlines. 683 people sentenced to death in Egypt. Tornados ripping through the Southern U.S. Woman killed six of her babies. The usual.
But tonight I went to Andronicos, alias Park and Shop, my old neighborhood supermarket that I frequented for some 30 years before Trader Joe’s came in. Rode my bike there to get popcorn that TJ’s doesn’t carry. And at the check-out stand, heard some music in the corner where there’s a little café seating area. Popcorn in hand, I walked over to listen to 12 assorted amateurs strumming ukuleles and singing Hawaiian songs. Turns out they meet there every Monday night and play through their homemade books of tunes.
Now that makes me happy. The world is ablaze with catastrophe, my little oasis of a school community is turning into a paperwork fingerprinting nightmare where generosity gives way to fear, local schools are giving kids points to show up on time to class that they can then redeem at the school store and I'm feeling like every little victory in sensible, decent, kind and generous human relationships is dying on the legal vine. But in the corner of my local supermarket, folks get together to strum ukeleles and sing songs. Maybe there's hope after all.
They invited me to come join them next week. That is, after I submit my FBI background check.