Friday, January 29, 2010


I stood outside tonight waiting for my little dog to pee. It was chilly and unusually quiet. The moon, full and exceptionally bright, lit up the back yard with a glow of peace. A few brave stars were visible through the light pollution of the city and I squinted to see them more clearly.

It was a moment before I tuned in to the public address system at the light rail station that lies half a block away. The voice was giving a detailed description of a man. Not wanting to know any more, I shrugged deeper into my jacket and dashed back into the house.

My dad was a highway patrolman in rural Minnesota for 25 years. Even he believed in the influence of a full moon. He swore that a full moon on a payday weekend spelled trouble and even offered to show me some of his field notes to back it up. Apparently, for tonight anyway, it proves him right.