Apollo Thinks Big

apollo as moses

“And Moses stretched out his hand over the sea; and the LORD caused the sea to go back by a strong east wind all that night, and made the sea dry land, and the waters were divided.”

I’m Going to Be Sick

pansiesEveryone with a blog gets a chance to riff on how afraid we’ve all become in society. We force our kids to wear helmets when they’re riding their bikes, we don’t let them walk to their friends’ houses by themselves, we keep hand sanitizer in the car, we overcook our hamburgers and spray disinfectant when someone says the word “sneeze.” I’m guilty of most of those and probably all of them at some time or another. And I’m not introducing an idea that’s original. The rants have become so tired and worn that I’ve become accustomed to rolling my eyes when someone starts, yet here I go.

The other day as I was leaving the YMCA where I work out, having thoroughly wiped down the elliptical machine I used, I heard a conversation that launched me into this little snit. I was walking by the basketball courts and greeted someone I know and like a lot. A good guy. As I opened the door to leave I heard him say to someone else, “I’m not picking it up.”

As I approached the exit the other guy came through the gym door and said to the woman at the front desk, “Ma’am, there’s a Band-Aid on the floor.”

I didn’t stay to see how it played out, but my assumption is that the guy wanted the staff to take care of it. Put on the rubber gloves and discard that thing in the medical waste bin, which I wouldn’t be surprised to learn the Y has.

Am I out of touch? I would have picked the thing up or ignored it, not thinking much more about it. But is it our fear that a Band-Aid, which over my lifetime went from being proof of some childhood heroism to an annoyance I put up with to stop the mess, is a carrier of something fatal? Someone had an owie. They put a bandage on it and it fell off and now we have to call the HazMat team to clear the site.

This little tirade probably qualifies me as old, but I am willing to take that risk. In a game of basketball there’s far more risk of getting something nasty from the sweaty guy you fouled than there is from a discarded Band-Aid. And let’s not start talking about the diseases floating in the swimming pool.

Life is messy. Over the time that you will live I’m willing to guess that you will swim in water that’s been peed in, eat a burger that’s been spat on and a strawberry that wasn’t thoroughly washed, you’ll kiss someone who’s sick and pass on sicknesses yourself.

Besides, do you know where that basketball has been?