Tour de Cluck:
Why would three grown-up professional women dress like chickens and ride rented bicycles on a rainy day in Davis California?
Two of my sisters (Judy and Carol) and I recently participated in the Tour de Cluck, an annual bike tour of backyard chicken coops. It’s for charity. Each biker-chick pays an entry fee that supports a farm to school program. School lunches, gardens, and recycling programs flourish because people like us, born to be wild, pay to bike-waddle from coop to coop.
I didn’t expect the Rose Bowl Parade. I thought in terms of Gay Pride – hundreds of costumed well-intentioned citizens for a worthy cause. The Tour de Cluck was smaller than Gay Pride. Plus I counted only four people dressed as chickens – my sisters, me, and one other dedicated soul.
It was totally worth it. I would do it again.
My friend Brock talks about “the dearness of things” and the Tour de Cluck allowed me to hover in “Dearness.”
Admit something: Everyone you see, you say to them, ‘Love me.’
Of course you do not do this out loud, otherwise someone would call the cops.
Still, though, think about this, this great pull in us to connect.
Why not become the one who lives with a full moon in each eye that is
always saying, with that sweet moon language,
what every other eye in this world is dying to hear? ~ Hafiz
Love at Lassens
I have a strange affection for the checkers at the health food store. The clerks wear plaid flannel shirts, green aprons and sandals with organic hemp socks. They look at me with sincere eyes and ask meaningful questions like, “paper or plastic,” secretly hoping I have brought my canvas bags from home. They await my response like it’s the most important thing in the world.
When I shamefully reply “paper,” confessing that once again I forgot my socially responsible bags, they grimace with me in solidarity: “Oh, nice try, better luck next time,” they seem to say. Their forgiveness makes them all the more appealing.