A tale of two deaths . . .
On one of the girls’ last days of school, the bus is late dropping them off. Not that late, just ten minutes or so, but the bus is never late. And then the bus is fifteen minutes late, and I am beginning to worry . . . just a little.
And then the phone rings. It’s Kallan, and there is chaos and noise behind her as she speaks, “Mom, we are going to be late! There are police everywhere, and we are going to be late!”
My heart skips a beat, “What do you mean, there are police everywhere?”
She is yelling into the phone now, “They are everywhere, Mom! A police officer got shot, and the police and fire trucks are everywhere! The bus is stuck! We’re going to be late!”
OH MY GOD. My mind is racing. I cannot believe that we left Vallejo and all of its violence, only to place our daughters in the middle of what is probably the only police shoot-out in the history of Lake Oswego. OH MY GOD.
I work to keep my voice calm, “You are in the middle of this, Kallan? Is the bus driver telling you what to do? Is she in charge? Is Maj OK?”
Kallan is still yelling, but now I hear that some of the chaos in the background . . . is laughter . . . “OK, we are in the bus and we are stuck outside of the cemetery.”
And then it clicks . . . the Chief of Police who died in his sleep just a few days earlier, just a few days short of retirement. The girls and their bus are stuck in the funeral procession into the cemetery.
“Kallan? Kallan?”
“Yes?”
“He wasn’t shot. No one was shot. Do you mean that you are in the middle of the funeral parade?”
“Why would they have a parade for a dead guy when he can’t even enjoy it?”
“Never mind that, I just want to be clear . . . there is no emergency?”
“Well, I am hungry. Does that count?”
“I will get a snack organized. And no, that doesn’t count.”
“Then no, there’s no emergency.”
“Ok, then I will see you when you get here. Thank you for calling to let me know you are going to be late.”
“You’re sure he wasn’t murdered? I think he was shot. That’s what the big kids said.”
“No, he wasn’t murdered.”
“OK, bye!”
A funeral.
No murder. Only grief.
Flash-forward to this afternoon . . .We are driving home, making the last lazy loops through the residential streets that lead to our house. Ahead, we see four enormous crows hanging out on the right-hand side of the road. The crows here in Orgeon? They are enormous. Huge and shiny and coal-black.
As our car approaches, all four of the big black birds take flight and nonchalantly fly up and over our car. Except for one, who tragically miscalculates and flies smack into our windshield with a loud thud. His body is then swept up and over the top of our car. He crashes to the street behind us.
Kallan is astounded, “You killed a bird! Daddy, you killed a huge crow-bird!”
“No, I am pretty sure it will be OK. I didn’t hit it that hard.”
Kallan is all matter of fact, “Daddy, it smacked into our windshield and then tumbled over our car into the street. It is all crumply and dead.”
Maj agrees, “It’s so dead.” She cranes to look out the back window, “It is so dead.”
Kallan starts to sing a little song, and after a few repetitions, Maj joins in . . .
I was a bird, flying all happily
But then a car hit me
And now I’m dead and crumply.
Mark tries to explain that it was the bird’s fault, “Listen, all I can do is drive the car. I am not supposed to swerve to avoid animals. The birds are supposed to get out of my way.”
You remember that Seinfeld episode where George runs over the pigeons with his car and is all incensed that the birds have broken their deal with the humans? “The pigeons are supposed to get out of the way! That’s our deal!”
That’s what Mark sounded like . . . What about our deal?
Mark goes on, “Totally the bird’s fault. He should not have been so careless.”
“OK, but Daddy? You so murdered him. You should feel at least a little guilty for being a bird killer.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
Kallan is delighted, “Maj! Daddy just apologized to a dead crumpled bird!”
The girls laugh happily.
No grief. Only murder.
Oh my. LOL Leave it to kids to scare you half to death like that! Glad everything was ok.
And the thing about the crow is too funny.
I know! She scared the crap out of me.
Silly girl.
I hate hitting things with my car. I try to miss them, but my attempt at avoidance sometimes conflicts with their half-hearted attempt to move out of my way. I accidentally hit a turtle once with my son in the car & felt very bad. He felt the need to remind me of it for several days. “mommy, you remember when you ran over that turtle last night?” All time periods past are “last night” to him.
Animals should definitely move for cars. Definitely. That’s part of their job as animals, dammit.
I hit a snake once, and it was hideous.
I smashed part of its tail to the pavement, so that when I looked in my rear-view mirror I could see it whipping around and trying to free itself.
And then it was smushed again by the car behind me.
Sigh.
The girls told that story to everyone we saw for the next week or so.
I hit a bird yesterday. I didn’t feel bad. I shouldn’t admit this, but I hate birds. Hate them with a passion. HATE THEM. Why do they always get in front of the car? There is so a deal: Birds, fly clear of cars. They break that deal all the time.
I don’t hate birds, but this bird?
Too stupid to live. How can you miscalculate a slow-moving minivan?
I’m impressed! I’ve been trying to hit a crow with my car ever since I was told it was nearly impossible – which, in my experience, it is! Way to go!
Honestly, the crow?
He hit us.
Maybe it is impossible! The question remains, I guess.
In high school my sister delivered pizza. She hit a dog once. He was fine. He walked away. My sister was so upset the dogs owner had to deliver her pizza for her while she cried in the passenger seat.
I HATE hitting animals of any sort.
Not that anyone likes it, but I get all sad.
The crow, though? Didn’t feel that bad . . . and the car was filled with giggling.
Did you know a group of crows is called a MURDER??!! Crows are so creepy – I think you did the world a favor. Just don’t tell PETA I said that. Awesome post!
Of course I knew that!
And thank you.
A million years ago when I was in high school, my girlfriend and I were driving her Mustang through town when from out of nowhere we were attacked by a kamikaze pigeon who flew directly into the hood scoop of her car. I saw the whole thing in slow-motion and can play back every moment of the event like the Zapruder film of the Kennedy assassination: the bird coming up from directly in front of the speeding vehicle; the thwack as he crashed into the hood; the almost graceful Mary Lou Retton-esque spin-flip that he did as his head popped off in the scoop and his body went spinning and spewing blood up and over the top of the car…
What? Didn’t I mention the decapitation?
Yeah, that was fun to clean out, let me tell you. It’s always the man’s job to clean heads out of the hood scoop, isn’t it?
When my dad was a kid, he was riding in the back seat of his parents’ car. A bird of some sort (maybe a goose?) hit their antenna. The antenna cleanly decapitated the bird. Bird body flew in the open window & landed in my grandmother’s lap.
A friend of mine was driving her Geo Storm up the coast one fine day when a seagull came over her car, got stuck in her airstream and was sucked through the glass of her rear window.
Try explaining that one to the insurance company.
Nigel -
I have had odd things happen, but never anything like that!
But I know just the skeptical mmmm hmmmm voice the insurance agent used.
Like there is a world in which your friend took a seagull and somehow thrust it through her rear window. Perhaps with some sort of high-powered catapult mounted on her car’s hood.
Insurance agents have to be on the lookout for that kind of shit.
WTH am I Doing -
ACK ACK ACK ACK!!!!!
That is the most horrible story ever!
ACK!
I love that it is here forever!
Thank you!
WTH am I Doing : AWESOME
Nigel -
If this happened in my marriage? I would be the one scooping out the dead bird head.
Seriously.
And I love love love your Zapruder film reference, calling up as it does not only the lone-gunman theory but also the magic loogie theory.
How much did I love Seinfeld?
And Mary Lou Retton?
I always preferred Nadia Comaneci, she of National Lampoon fame.
Did you notice how Nadia’s nipples stood out? Absolute perfection!
Honestly? Not all that interested in Mary Lou Retton.
Honestly? I wanted to marry Nadia Comaneci when I was a boy. And not just because of her nipples.
But I really do like the nipples, in case the subject ever comes up.
Bonus points for the Seinfeld and National Lampoon references. You’re so cool it just hurts me.
You’re also so cool that I forgot to close my italics in my HTML.
Quite the awesome.
Silly lovelorn you.
You are keeping score?
You are so winning.
I will make a note about your feelings regarding nipples. Because I am sure the subject will come up.
If I am winning, then it’s a very close race, because your awesomeness just totally kicks my ass all over the place.
And when doesn’t the subject of nipples come up? It should come up more often if you ask me. Nipples: everyone’s got ‘em!
Unless you’re not a mammal. Or you’re Marky Mark. Because he has three of them.
What a freak.
Just have a minute here, but check out the third-nipple love here.
Scroll down a bit . . . there are some awesome photos, including one? Of a foot nipple!
I am all cringing in horror.
I love you so, so much.
I have no idea why the birds in the Pacific Northwest are so stupid. This morning, thw world’s biggest robin (swear to God, I measured it and it was 14 inches high) flew into our sliding glass door and killed itself. WTF? Of course, our (indoor) cats Bonkers and Bentley were delighted with their impressive and obvious long-distance bird-killing skillz.
Birds are so stupid.
And that is a HUGE fucking robin!
Your cats? They are not that bright either. But they have great names!
Bonkers and Bentley! Love those names!
One time my dad hit a turtle, I never let him live that down.
I cannot stand birds, they freak me out, of course I would never want them to get hit by a car or anything, I just want them to stay away from me.
I remember running over turtles way back in Michigan.
The crunch? It is horrible. Makes me shudder to remember.
And what did birds ever do to you?
I love your girls. Like, big pink puffy glittery heart them.
And it was totally that crow’s fault. He totally went askew of the deal.
I will pass your love along. I spent all day in the car with them, so my love?
It is a little worn and frayed around the edges.
Is it possible that there is a large bird suicide pact being enacted this spring/summer? Just last week robin flew into a window at my new place of employ, neither once, nor twice, but three times. The third time was too much for the poor soul…
Also, perhaps Kallan would be interested in a sideline writing funerary laments? Her dead bird song was exactly the kind of thing I want sung over my ashes–you know fifty or sixty years from now.
I do not know what’s up with the birds. We have had a few birds fly into our windows over the last several weeks.
And a few weeks ago? I missed hitting a low-flying duck by just a few inches.
What the fuck, birds?
Kallan will be happy to say a few words at your funeral, but she may then also be back to dig you up. She likes to check to see how the death is going. Fair warning.
Your girls are hysterical! How do you deal?
One day at a time.
And not always well.
Brian once ran over a jackrabbit. He was upset about it for days!
So the policy here in Albuquerque is that whenever there is any police activity in a neighborhood, the schools go on lock down. That makes sense if it’s a SWAT situation or a drug bust or something, and they’ve been on lock down twice for stuff like that, but once? My kids’ schools were on lock down for two hours (beginning 20 minutes before school would have been dismissed) while cops questioned an unarmed drunk man on the sidewalk.
On the flip-side?
The girls’ old private school was supposed to go on lock-down whenever there was a nearby police emergency.
One time? I left their school just before the lunch-hour, and was immediately pulled over and questioned by police as to the occupants of my car. They were looking for an armed suspect who had been involved in a carjacking. The school? They knew NOTHING about it.
I called the school from my cell phone and told them that maybe they should look out their windows.
And then they went on lock-down.
I was so pissed off at the local police department.
Vallejo was lovely.
When US Air 1549 landed on the Hudson River, after being very, very happy everyone survived…I started worrying about how many geese were sucked into the engine. They should have gotten out of the way.
And in New Orleans…in the French Quarter, they have funeral parades with Mardi Gras like bands in the street. It is very cool. I want one of those when I die.
Airplanes are huge and scary. If I was a goose? I’m pretty sure I would get sucked into an airplane.
As far as the geese are concerned? I am pretty sure they think we are breaking our deal with them by achieving flight.
Also? I hate flying.
And I do not want a parade when I die. I want everybody to just go on as though I am alive but in the next room, resting.
Kallan is so funny: “Well, I am hungry. Does that count?”
Kallan is always clear on what’s important:
Kallan.