Our relatively successful Halloween has gotten me thinking: Perhaps I've been too harsh about this place. Perhaps I'm choosing to only see the bad things. Perhaps I'm, oh, what's the word..... B I T T E R. No place is entirely loathsome, or so I keep telling myself. Maybe it's time to look on the bright side, walk on the sunny side of the street, look at the glass as half full for a change. So in an effort to be fair and balanced, I'm going to present the good along with the bad, however rarely they may come up. And with that in mind I present "Random Good Things About Bako: #1":
Nobody Here Picks Up Dog Shit
As a dog owner myself, it's quite liberating. Oh sure, the sidewalks are minefields and the lawns that haven't been turned into the Everglades with all the constant watering are pooped all to hell. But no one seems to mind. No one. Everyone in this neighborhood has dogs, so maybe it's just a tit for tat thing. Or shit for shat, as the case may be. You can't really get pissed about dog shit on your lawn if you've allowed yours to do the same thing to everyone else. Whatever the reason, it's just one small thing off my "to do" list.
I used to be the type of person who believed the content of your character was measured in no small part by what you did when no one was looking, and so from the moment we got the dogs I always did the conscientious thing and scooped the poop. Until one of our neighbors in LA left a big steaming pile on our doorstep. I was pretty sure who did it, and as luck would have it, a couple of days later I was able to return the favor. But that was it. Honest. And it was justified. The one exception to the rule. OK, almost the only one. There was also the asshole producer who lived at the top of our hill. He was a dick. But really, just those two. But you know, as with most things in life, it's a slippery slope, and the next thing you know I was completely ambivalent about it. More often than not, I still took care of the business, but it really came down to a quick calculation of how dark it was and neighborhood sightlines.
And then we moved here and I reverted to my old, thoughtful ways. Out of fear. These people scared me, and more likely than not, they were armed. But it soon became clear that rather than be a capital, shootable offense, it was... nothing. The sense of freedom is rather surprising. Like joining a nudist colony, I imagine. I still carry bags, but their just props. Or for the rare occasion when the deed happens right in front of a glowering homeowner. And occasionally I still pick it up, for old times sake. I'm nostalgic that way.
