Monday, February 19, 2007

One might think...

ב' אדר, תשס"ז
One might think that most of the property owners in a city full of lawyers and politicians might be wary of ignoring a fairly well-known public ordinance, especially one whose neglect is so obvious as to scream "attention!" (as well as threaten bodily harm) to anyone trying to pass or enter said property:
§ 9-601. Removal from sidewalks by owner or occupant of abutting property.

It shall be the duty of every person, partnership, corporation, joint-stock company, or syndicate in charge or control of any building or lot of land within the fire limits of the District of Columbia, fronting or abutting on a paved sidewalk, whether as owner, tenant, occupant, lessee, or otherwise, within the first 8 hours of daylight after the ceasing to fall of any snow or sleet, to remove and clear away, or cause to be removed and cleared away, such snow or sleet from so much of said sidewalk as is in front of or abuts on said building or lot of land.*
One would, apparently, be wrong.

*District of Columbia Official Code

Sunday, February 18, 2007

Memory

ראש חודש אדר, תשס"ז
It amazes me sometimes the jumbled collection of memories that are permanent residents of my brain, and the stimuli that bring them to the window for a breath of air.

There is a certain type of bird, distinctive to me only by its call, that I heard daily when I was living on kibbutz seven (!) years ago. If I ever actually saw a creature making that noise, I certainly didn't register the details of its appearance, so I really only know the sound as an abstract entity. Its association with that particular period of my life, though, is apparently very firmly rooted in my mind. I say this because I have periodically heard it since, in various settings both similar to and diverse from the kibbutz (urban locations in Israel as well as both rural and urban locations here in the U.S.), and every single time -- most recently this afternoon -- I have been instantly though ever-so-fleetingly visited by the sensation that I am on kibbutz.

This phenomenon is not unfamiliar to me, although it's more frequently triggered by smell than sound, and might bring me back to any number of distinctive situations in my life. It's not déjà vu; in fact, it's the authentic experience of memory that déjà vu attempts to mimic. But I'm not sure whether memory in most people is so often such a stark, elemental encounter, rather than a conscious mental process. Moreover, in many such cases I have found that once the stimulus is associated repeatedly with other settings, its power to yank me back to its original context is considerably dulled. Not that bird, though. He's followed me clear around the world (a couple of times) with the aura of kibbutz tied to his foot, trailing behind him in the wind ready to tag me whenever he finds a female worthy of his call.