Angels and Birds

Last night I stopped keyboarding away to watch "Angels in America." I was not sure if I was up for a three-hour examination of the early days of AIDS.

I saw far too many die. Guys who would be at the bar one week, and vanish the next. And I'm actually afraid to try to count those I knew directly or indirectly.

"Angels" was incredible. I was fearful that I'd be checking the clock every few minutes. But I was so drawn in that I didn't even notice. And suddenly the three hours were up, and I actually wanted more. Which, I understand there is, and I'm guessing it airs next Sunday.

On the surface, it addresses how two men deal with having AIDS. But there is a lot more than that.

There is a marvelous bit of casting magic that I totally missed until the final credits. And when I saw the credits I was floored.

For the last several years, I've watched and listened for winged creatures. Several times here, I've commented on the pigeons that have claimed the east side of a section of Interstate and the nearby utility poles. They gather on the wires and will suddenly catch the air.

When I would sit outside at the deli, I'd notice tiny little brown wrens sneak underneath an empty table looking for scraps. And they would quickly grab the pieces of bread I tossed their way.

Last Friday, as I made my way up the Interstate frontage road, I saw a vast canopy of swirling birds. There were so many that when they swerved it was like drifting black smoke. They were perched on every wire and cable, even on the supporting ones angled between post and earth. As I passed under them, the chirping was like a howl and the air seemed to sway.

This morning as I stopped at the ATM, I looked up, and there were sea gulls. Or at least they certainly looked like sea gulls. Not many, only a few. And I've seen them before as I recall. Are they lost? Are they migrating? Do they now live here? Do they auger good fortune?

PAX!