May 15, 2010

Walking on the porch in my bare feet, I felt I had stepped on something. It was an ant. It was writhing and jerking about the way they do, and I decided to watch it, having noted in the past miraculous healing powers, how they seem crushed and in hopeless agony one second, and are up scurrying about the next. This one writhed a little, but then stretch out, resting, I suppose. As he did, a midge came out of the air and settled near him- within a fraction of an inch, but on that level I suppose it preserved the most finical conception of personal space. Seconds later a blood mite zoomed across the floor, and came to rest the same distance from the ant in a slightly different direction. It looked like nothing in the world so much as gawkers at an accident, or perhaps comforters waiting to hear final instructions, waiting to bear the news to help or to survivors. The ant was feeling along the edge of a crack between boards when I turned away, whether restored to his mission or contemplating a plunge into the darkness I don’t know.

Commencement this morning. Sweet. Still, the address was saved from being bad only by being brief. I think the time when merely mentioning how one was part of the civil rights struggle amounted to automatic credibility is over. It might get you a “Pass” but not an “A.” When the new graduates throw their caps into the air, I mist over.