Article Contributed on: 8/10/2009 8:37:40 AM
An editorial in yesterday's Denver Post summed up much of what I've been circling for awhile now...when it comes to issues of race and class in today's Cole neighborhood, that is. Read the column here...
Playing with Fire.
The accompanying cartoon was perfect too...because no one is blameless when it comes to this contentious, hot-button issue.
This morning as I wake up with coffee and the soothing sounds of the fountain, I am also greeted by two pomeranians and a chihuahua, new to the corner neighbors (at least one of them is), all of which sound like they are being killed slowly, perhaps prepared for the spit. Nasty image, I know, but they call forth things in my mind that shock even me. Their barking is incessant and ear piercing, and I have entertained thoughts that I will not admit to publicly, thoughts that involve tainted meat or secret missions of kidnapping in the dark of night wherein these not-dogs find new homes in, say, Wiggins. But because I am a dog lover, I cope. And the barking, for now, has stopped, but I'd bet dollars to donuts that Ray, the neighbor directly behind the yappers, is about ready to do away with those critters himself. I mean, Ray can't even stand to see my dog walk on his (rented) lawn.
Off into the week I merrily go...and it's my birthday week, no less! I shall start my insufferable "Well, it IS my birthday so, I get to ______" soon enough--I love birthdays, mine and everyone elses--but not quite yet. Work and deadlines beckon.