The latest presidential candidate debates have me thinking a lot about onions. Many types of onions look good on the outside. They’re even quite colorful.
Some onions are red. Others are purple. We have the yellow variety. And white. And still others are green. Some experts even claim onions offer excellent health benefits, though others may disagree.
Don’t get me wrong. I do like onions.
But have you ever picked an onion purely because it looked good?
It held such a wonderful view from high above—until it crashed.
Out of hundreds of acres of surrounding farmland, the brand new and quite expensive drone of one of our family members bee-lined toward the only body of water on the property. The small aircraft had lost its ability to maneuver, and on Thanksgiving Day, 2014, it went down, plunging to the bottom of a one acre lake.
And there it spent the entire year of 2015, buried alive, in the mud.
When you read those words you are likely either nodding in agreement or shaking your head. It’s a wonderful life. Yes, it is. Or, no, it isn’t.
If you haven’t seen the Hollywood classic, you might presume it’s the image of the picture perfect family. Dad grinning wide at his children in front of the Christmas tree. Mom gazing with love and admiration into his eyes. Children who can do no wrong. It’s what we want everyone to see. It’s how we wish life would be. And life is…
I was sipping coffee outside when out of the corner of my eye I noticed a leaf stuck between the deck slats, waving with the morning breeze. It was colored an extraordinarily rich green, a contrast from the spectrum of autumn browns, yellows, and oranges. A closer look revealed a True Katydid, a.k.a., a green leaf bug.
I figured it was dead. Temperatures had dropped into the 40’s that night. With my slippered feet I tapped it onto its side. It’s legs pedaled slowly into empty air.
I picked it up. It’s tiny eyes stared at me with helpless abandon.
We don’t bake Thanksgiving turkeys anymore.
In those days, my wife and I played to conversations between the living room and the kitchen, speeding back and forth between family and friends—and the timer. Waiting. Everybody waiting. On a lifeless oven.