One of our local law enforcement officers asked me this morning to remind our area residents about what he termed “aggressive strollering.”
Apparently, some have taken to walking with their children (and small dogs) in an unsafe and aggressive manner.
Please be reminded that state law says:
— Strollers must be pushed so that they are going the opposite way of automotive traffic
— Large “gangs” of strollers should travel in a single file line and never stretch the width of the street
— Moderate speeds should be adhered to and loud talking needs to be minimized
— All strollers should be in good working condition and not cobbled together from various bits of other strollers found at garage sales
— Shopping carts are NOT strollers and are banned for such use by city ordinance
— Texting and strolling is generally unsafe, along with harnessing several large dogs to pull your stroller Yukon style
— You may open carry a firearm of your choice while strollering
Please, for the sake of our children, stroller in a friendly, light hearted manner.
Many, many years ago the world was covered in darkness. There was no warmth, only a constant sense of damp coldness.
The sun did not hang high in the sky. There were no flames and there was no relief from the black ink that smothered the world.
The people of the Earth were miserable in the cold and darkness. They could not see and would lose their way. They would become hopelessly lost and most spent their lives alone, unable to find others and drenched in sadness.
The white raven could see better than most in the shadowy days and nights. Through the murkiness he flew. He wailed from the sadness of the people he found alone.
But then one day, he found a old man who was never sad at all.
The raven watched him and longed to discover how this man managed to never be filled with despair.
After many days he saw the man quietly open a metal box in his hut. As the lid was raised, a blinding light poured out. With a set of metal tongs the man pulled a yellow, glowing ball from the box and the hut was drenched in light. Colors the raven had never seen were suddenly alive. The hut was no longer cold but filled with warmth.
The old man laughed and smiled and played with the glowing ball.
“Now,” the old man said. “I will put you away my little sun for you are mine and I will not share you nor the joy you contain.”
The raven was clever and knew what to do.
He waited for the old man to turn his back. Then the raven flew into the hut, opened the box and pulled the sun out with his beak.
The old man screamed and threw rocks at the raven. The raven was brave. The raven stole the sun.
He flew from the hut and the light and the warmth spilled across the world.
Higher and higher he flew. The sun’s flames scorched his beautiful white feathers until they turned a somber shade of black.
Surely, the raven would die if he went any higher.
But he kept flying. He would not stop.
His wings gave out.
He released the sun.
He fell to the earth.
He was no more.
But the sun is still there.
A gift, stolen by the raven to light the world and rid it of its darkness and misery.