A sunny spring afternoon finds a young woman sprawled on the grass under an oak tree writing and daydreaming as squirrels chase each other around the tree. What a lovely scene, thinks the Prowler.
Inside the building, the Prowler is happy to go to the office without fear of tardy slips or detention and walk back out without a pass.
The scene outside has changed. A boy and girl have joined the dreamer. Both are smoking and hoping the oak will hide them from watchful eyes inside the building as they flirt and cut class.
Visiting Los Gatos High School last week caused the Prowler to wax nostalgic. Embedded in the pavement near the recycling bins was '32, presumably for 1932. The Prowler's elementary school came and went with the baby-boomer generation and is now a senior center. The high school survived a mere 20 years before being converted to other uses.
Oh, to attend a school old enough to grow oaks like those whose roots are tearing up the sidewalk in front of Los Gatos High. Gives one a sense of permanence.
Maybe some people prefer impermanence. A bumper sticker on a brown pickup cruising Main Street said: "Term limits for the media." Just what are you getting at, pardner?
Media jobs, being what they are, seem pretty self-limiting anyway, at least to this cat.
Appearing pretty permanent to the Prowler last week was the express line at a local supermarket. Folks may have only had nine items on the counter, but the Prowler was doing a low growl as each customer seemed to haul out a different bank card that the machine wouldn't accept. It's all the bank's fault, said the clerk. Meanwhile the Prowler's mocha fro-yo was turning into brown sludge. How about term limits for technology?
Speaking of which, the Prowler's Mac just got hauled off to the computer graveyard. Brain-dead was the verdict. Too much fro-yo in the disk drive? Nothing lasts forever.
This article appeared in the Los Gatos Weekly-Times, June 12, 1996.
©1996 Metro Publishing, Inc. All rights reserved