It is a quiet night. The weather is caught somewhere between the warm, sultry evenings of summer and the vicious cold of winter. There are hints of each of these seasons as I go outside to walk the dogs. They will battle for a few weeks until it's game over for summer; winter has won again.
My husband has staked out real estate in front of the television with his eyes blankly staring at the NY Giants game. It is his team. On Facebook I see many people passionately supporting one team or another. I have no team. I do not sit in astonishment glaring at the screen while grown people play games they learned as children. Many people revel in this. Clearly something is lacking in my character or genetic makeup.
I can't attach myself to the wonder of expensive sports on a TV screen when there are unresolved wars, people in poverty, and many without enough to eat. The salaries of professional athletes and movie stars are morally repugnant. Maybe I'm just jealous. I hope not.
Certainly there are people in the public eye who use their station in life to do good, share their wealth, provide a good example. I can't think of any of their names right now. I guess I need to pay better attention.
Yet here, the dogs snore peacefully, completely relaxed in their favorite couch positions. Darkness has descended and I am tired from my small life on a large planet filled with problems and TV programs that people watch to escape them.
It is a quiet night.