Crickets

        The sound of the front door closing behind me seems awfully loud. It takes a minute or so for my eyes adjust to the soft twilight emanating from my neighbors' windows, and the streetlight on the corner. I immediately become aware of the reverberating harmony of chirping crickets.

         I can't remember hearing the crickets since I was a kid, but with no cars or trucks passing by on the street, they sure seem noisy. My subconscious tells me that the crickets have always been there, I just haven't listened for them. It also reminds me that something seems to be very, very wrong.

         As I sit down on the cool concrete steps, the volume of the happy crickets seems to slowly diminish. Soon I have to concentrate to hear them at all. From the other side of the door behind me, the subdued audio of the television seeps out, but I can't hear what's being said. Briefly it occurs to me that I might be missing some news of significance, but deep down I know that it really doesn't matter any more.

         For several months now, my neighbor's Social Security check has been growing smaller, and she's been sharing her fears with me. My company folded earlier this year, and she and I share many common concerns. I managed to save a few dollars for a rainy day, but I haven't been able to find a job. I'm afraid we may loose our home soon.

         The president of the country resigned yesterday, along with his cabinet, or so the networks told us. He sent congress a letter, something about the country being bankrupt. During his campaign and earlier in his term, he was smiling and talking on television every day. We've hardly seen or heard from him at all lately, though. It seems like he should have at least given us some explanation.

         For a long time now, the politicians, scholars and media experts haven't seemed to be able to agree on anything. Some tell us that the government's probably spending too much money, and we needed to balance the budget and eliminate the deficit. Others say that such extreme measures aren't necessary, and that everything will be just fine like it is. I can't tell who's telling the truth, but about the time I went broke, I figured out that we really do have big problems.

         It seems like only yesterday the traffic on my street this time of night was heavy and loud, as I came home from work, or we went out to eat. No one is driving tonight, and the street is empty except for a big, yellow tabby cat chasing bugs on the concrete under the street lamp.

         For the last couple of years, it seems that businesses in our country have been closing, right and left. Some of them moved to Mexico or Taiwan or somewhere else, but most got tired of loosing money, and just didn't open their doors one day. Too many people have been laid off and just don't have jobs any more. Even the hamburger joints are closing now, and it looks like there aren't any jobs anywhere.

         When the troubles began to get out of hand in the good old U. S. A., the news people stopped talking about the problems in Russia and the wars all over the planet. All they talk about now is terrorism, the militias, and problems with the economy. There's a riot, an assassination, or some nut blows up a government building almost every day now, and the newscasters have stopped trying to count the total number of dead.

         I've yet to see the headlights of a single car tonight, and it seems too quiet now. I feel uncomfortable and somehow, a sense of foreboding. But, there's really no danger in this quite, peaceful little town, I try to smile and reassure myself.

         I watched congress debate the nation's problems all morning on C-SPAN, but haven't been able to make any sense of it. Some still say we need to raise taxes, others demand that government spending be cut. All of them are afraid of illegal guns and the outlawed militias. Come to think of it, both houses of congress shut down at noon, and none of the members came back after lunch. I watched re-runs of the morning sessions, still trying to understand. What a waste of time.

         I listened to Dan Rather while I ate my usual beans and crackers for supper. He talked about the falling stock market, and how nobody had bought the government securities that had been offered to refinance the national debt today. He said that wasn't a good sign for the economy. After I finished eating, I looked up and noticed that he seemed much older than I remembered him. He looked tired, and scared, too.

         My wife still has her job, and makes enough money to at least feed us. It seems she's tired most of the time now, and worried. We don't talk much any more and she goes to bed earlier now. She's probably already asleep.

         As I rise from the hard steps and brush off my slacks, I realize that even if I could figure out what was wrong with the country, I probably couldn't do anything about it. I'm too tired to worry about it any more, and the happy crickets don't seem to care. I guess they'll still be here after we're all gone.

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This page was created October 12, 1997 Copyright © 1997 D'Amor

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