Twas brillig...

On my way from my car to the Museum of Photographic Arts this morning, I walked past a eucalyptus trees, not the rainbow variety, but a towering giant with a lower trunk still wet after an early soaking from an irrigation system; and there it was... Jabberwocky had transported himself (or herself, maybe) from the other side of the park and had transformed himself from the wide-eyed, mirthful gnome on yesterday’s Madagascar tree to a decidedly more menacing spirit on a tree native to Australia. There is balance in the world, however. The tree with the scowling image is only a hundred yards or so from my favorite tree, the rainbow eucalyptus that lives behind the photographic museum. The wonderful thing about a eucalyptus, any eucalyptus, is that it is always in the process of becoming; it changes from week to week. In this season of pealing, it sheds its skin in patches and strips producing abstract designs that are any photographer’s dream.

On another subject: I’ve been amazed today to learn that an apparent majority of Americans, not members of the jury, were disappointed that the notorious young woman in the Florida court was not found guilty of murdering her beautiful little daughter. What’s that about? Why disappointed? What is it in people that wants to put a person to death? Is the world, after all, filled with the spirit of the Taliban. Of course, I’m shocked that the young woman didn’t report her daughter missing for over a month. Of course, I have been saddened to learn that the young mother’s longing for the life of a party person even after she had become a mother was far stronger than her maternal instincts. How could I not be dismayed to see and hear details that made me want to hear no more? Yet, I never felt anything but extreme pity for the mother... and for her parents... and for her brother. It’s too late for pity for the dead baby. When the announcement was made today that the jury had not found her guilty and that she will probably be a free person after serving three or four years for perjury, I felt a great sense of relief; but I heard people, men and women, say that she deserves to be put to death. Wow! Am I living among people who would agree, if they were citizens of a remote village in Afghanistan, to the stoning to death of any woman found guilty of adultery? This young woman may be guilty of terrible crimes, perhaps even infanticide, but where is the satisfaction in killing her? Whatever happens to her now, her life will be hell. Imagine what people will think of her, will say about her...how they will look at her. Who could possibly love her now... genuinely love her? Can’t people just be satisfied with the terrible tragedy that will always be the overpowering central event of her sad life? Can’t we above all other impulses, when we think of her sad life, hope for redemption?