Imaginary Gardens with Real Frogs

I got a nice rejection slip from a magazine today, with a thoughtful note. I almost didn't know I was being rejected until I got to the end. I sent the essay they rejected to another magazine right away--one that just started taking online submissions.

Something good came of the rejection slip: the editors use a nice postcard with an inspirational photo on the front, so I can put it on my office door, which is plastered with postcards. I also have a new one with a Hippo, from my daughter Heather, I can put there as well.

My office door has nothing but images, which is probably because I can't commit to words right now. Pictures will do it for me: here's the world we love, some of the little pieces of it we hope the politicians of one country or another won't destroy.

John McCain recently said in response to Russia's invasion of its neighbor Georgia that countries can no longer invade other countries in the 21st century. He obviously didn't remember or count our invasion of Iraq, which makes it hard to posture.

But isn't it odd there are so many people in the world who are willing to kill? It's a requirement that presidential candidates be willing to kill if the cause comes up. Sometimes you can't help it; sometimes you can. Maybe the dividing line between candidates should be when and for what reasons they would be willing to kill people and destroy their habitat.

In the center of my door sits a green frog on a green lily pad. If elected, I hope you can keep from destroying frogs or things that live on or in or near water. Or things that are green or that have eyes or that don't have eyes, like the lily pad on which my frog sits.

That doesn't seem like too much to ask, but many people feel it is a proud right, even a national heritage, to kill people who get in the way, or animals and plants that can't get out of the way. That's why my rejection slip is good, and the hippo Heather sent is good. I will put them on my door with the images of things that shouldn't be destroyed.

We tend to think our opinions make us who we are, make us unique, important, powerful, or part of a more powerful group that gives our opinions teeth. But our opinions make us common, even dangerous, and that is often what opinionated people are after.

The sense that they ought to be feared.