Pizza in the road

I ran into Mac and Joan at the farmers market. She thanked me for my writing, and I really meant it when I thanked her in return. The vulnerability required in this creative journey provokes my inner 13-year-old: Does this topic look stupid on me? What if no one likes it?

My post that week had been weighty, again, and I made a slight apology. I remember how Mac threw his head back and laughed when I said, “Sometimes, I just want to write about flowers!”

I was channeling the scene from Monty Python and the Holy Grail when Prince Herbert tells his father, King of the Swamp Castle, that more than any forthcoming inheritances or matrimonial gains, what he wants is to SING! And, who can blame him? Kingdoms are so demanding, what with the need to make rules, and break them, and keep one’s subjects in check and all. We might get the keys to the castle, but we also get damp walls, marauding hordes, and all the responsibility.

So, for a change, I’m going to sing. Not really, though I do love it so. No, I’m giving myself permission to ignore the hordes gathering on the hillside and instead take up the frivolous subject of street-found objects.

You probably think of found art as repurposing the mundane to make a more meaningful piece. Well, I’m taking liberties. My objects were found on the roadside and were left unadulterated, right where they were discovered. They made me smile, and they sparked my imagination, which preserves the tenets of the genre. I’m using the art of writing to call attention to their higher purpose, because it feels like the right thing to do today.

First up, a dog bowl. When I found this lonely vessel, separated as it was from its thirsty canine companion, I felt certain it belonged to the family in the house nearest the part of the street where it lay. I often see kids’ toys strewn about in that yard, and while I couldn’t recall ever seeing a dog, I made up stories about how one of the children borrowed the dish of water to wash a Tonka, or to stand in as lagoon for a plastic T. rex. But, the bowl was still there the next time I went by, and the time after that. A month passed. Yvon Chouinard, the 83-year-old founder of the Patagonia brand, announced that he was giving away his future profits, to the tune of $100 million per year, to help combat climate change. And then, the bowl went away. I hope somebody took it home to their dog, or their children.

Another time, there was a pizza. A whole, deep dish number, with three or four different toppings – spinach and sausage on one half, ham and what looked like extra cheese on the other. It was nearly midday, but also December, so there were no insects having their way with this windfall. The turkey vultures hadn’t discovered it either. I wondered about the provenance of this wayward pie. Had the delivery driver shuffled the stack of boxes in his insulated satchel and left this one, forgotten, on the roof of his Ford Fiesta? Had there been a house of ravenous teenagers who had to make do with microwaved popcorn? Do vultures even eat pizza? Maybe they prefer a thinner crust.

Hats and gloves, travel cups and tools, furniture, shoes – so many shoes - undergarments. These are not unusual finds. The other day, I noticed a smashed pacifier in the lane leading up to Target and decided if I ever started a band I would call it Busted Binky.

The most entertaining item so far was, technically, not a street find. It surfaced in my mate’s pick-up truck, which, obviously, runs over the road and is home to similar levels of debris, so I’m counting it. It was a plastic, confetti cutout of the sort someone might scatter to add pizzazz to their party table décor, or tuck into an envelope to liven up a greeting card. Only there would be multiples, in different colors and designs, not just the one. Not just this solitary, white sperm.

We will never know the origin story for this little swimmer but it seems it found a comfortable home in its new location. It was 2021 when it first showed up. I know this because of the date stamp on the photo. The other day, I found it again, on the floor, still swimming in the same direction. I suppose it could do worse. I suppose we could all do worse.

~Elizabeth

p.s. What’s the funniest thing you’ve found on the side of the road? What else do you think about when you want to stop thinking about weightier matters?