Honoring Martha

Martha died alone
 Never testing wing to breeze
Extinction’s last blink.



This day marks the centennial of the final death throes of the All-American Passenger Pigeon. Once numbering in the billions this beautiful, social and apparently very tasty bird faced the ravages of unbridled extermination. When there is so much in the land of plenty it may seem unfathomable that a few hundred here or a few hundred there slaughtered for supping could ever make a difference, but that's how the extinction mindset works. With no thought to the regulation of this gentle species they were plundered at their breeding grounds and annihilated every time they flocked across our wide open skies. Astonishingly, it took its toll in a rather compressed timeline. From an estimate of 5 billion plus in the mid-1800's, the Passenger Pigeon's last blink came in 1914 from a 29-year old beauty named Martha, who spent her solitary life in the Cincinnati Zoo as the only representative of this once bountiful species. The lesson should be clear that this mindset of a never ending bounty that exists just to service our needs and wants is folly. However, we see this happening over and over again with the over-fishing of our waterways and oceans. I have always held the belief that history is important to study, not just to learn about our forefathers and their lives and times but to learn from their pitfalls and blunders, how to behave smarter. Apparently not. We choke on excess and look at history as quaint.

Carpe Diem

The last thing that touched Robin Williams was his belt. It was also the thing that killed him. I'm thinking it was probably a black belt, since he so frequently seemed to wear various shades of black, grey and earth tones. He was probably wearing the belt that day and had it on when he said good night to his wife, if he said good night to her. Did he plan on taking the black belt off and hanging it in his closet or against his chair? Perhaps he removed it from the belt loops on his jeans, if he was wearing jeans, and while placing his pants on the edge of his bed and holding his black belt in his hands, running it through his fingers, he came up with the idea of how to orchestrate his demise. The thought of the stagnation of routine: taking off his clothes, turning on the light next to the bed, brushing the teeth, flossing, opening the novel up to the bookmarked spot. It all seemed so tedious, so beside the point, so useless. The sounds of anguish were inescapable, deafening,a ringing in the brain; laughter the distracter. Sleep was not his friend because there was no hiding from the noise, the voices, the rollicking insanity of a civilization out of control. And the cruelty. It made his smile stiff, verging on fakery. He had to be funny. It was expected, it was his responsibility to bring a light heart and let it glow. They wanted it, they needed it. And what did he want and need? For it to end. The disappointment of it all, the precious things wasted. He could no longer bear witness to the unraveling of a species bent on destroying itself and everything else in its path. The laughter no longer worked. It changed nothing. So, the belt became his friend and set him free.The ultimate "Carpe Diem".