dailynotions

While hip, latte sipping philosophy majors and decorated evolutionary scientists alike devote their time and energy to discovering the meaning of life, the late, great Kurt Vonnegut claims to have stumbled upon it while on a mission to purchase an envelope: “We’re here on Earth to fart around.”

As crass as it may sound, I think the man has a point. I stumbled upon validation for Vonnegut’s epitaph while I, myself, was on a mission to purchase an envelope.

I came to Los Angeles hoping to take one small step for an aspiring journalist, but instead acquired one large strain on my pocketbook: the ever feared parking ticket. The next day after I ran out of friends, acquaintances, and people I hadn’t spoken to in months to complain about the ridiculousness of Tuesday street cleaning fines to, I set out to pay said fine.

The check was written (an embittered scarlet red was the pen color of choice), and the begrudging thoughts towards the LAPD had subsided. I had some leftover stamps from postcards I had neglected to send. All that was left was to purchase an envelope.

The nearest CVS is about 4 blocks away from my apartment, so I normally regarded the trip as trivial, but today was one of those special days where you feel inexplicably appreciative of your surroundings. I don’t know if it was the juxtaposition to my previously haughty temperament or simply a randomly misfired synapse, but it’s almost as if the roses were more fragrant than usual, and were whispering with their potency “stop and smell me!” So I did.

As soon as I stepped outside I witnessed two cars nearly collide. They were traveling at a safe speed of about 10 miles per hour, so a crash would have been far from fatal, but driver number one, clearly a local college student whose roses weren’t so fragrant today, honked his horn. Loudly. For about 30 seconds. Driver number two, clearly a frustrated tourist sighed “what is it with people around here?

Normally I’m not one to strike up conversation with irritated strangers, but I laughed, shrugged, and yelled “maybe he’s mad because he just got a parking ticket!” Driver number two seemed to enjoy my little quip and chuckled “enjoy your day!”

Next I came across a couple of petitioners that it’s safe to say most avid streetwalkers would deem obnoxious. “Do you have a few minutes to help save the environment?” one asked. As a matter of fact, I did.

I had a quick chat with the attendant who seems to be perpetually on duty at my parking garage, and learned that he is not from Spain as I had originally assumed, but Argentina.

But it was what I experienced at my destination, not on my journey, that inspired me the most. After spending fifteen minutes wandering the aisles of the drug store, a clerk whose hands were quite literally full asked me if I needed help. “Actually, I’m just looking for an envelope, but I’m sure I could find it on my own,” I smiled. “Well if you just need one, follow me, I can give you one for free. I work in the greeting card department,” she replied, somehow managing to wave her hand in a “it’s no problem at all” gesture while still balancing boxes.

So maybe Vonnegut, in all of his crassness, was right. Maybe our careers and our love life’s are just the back story, and the enjoyment of seemingly unimportant moments really is what it’s all about. After all, I drove 1,500 miles from Dallas to Los Angeles and all I got was a parking ticket, but I walked four blocks from my apartment to the convenience store and found a laugh, a cause, an acquaintance, and a reminder that selflessness does exist.   

"A cheaper tradition would be, well, patriotic."

 Every 4^th of July that I can remember has been the same, and this year was no exception: A hop, skip and a jump down the street to watch the annual fireworks show. I would complain that parking is a hassle if finding seats with a decent view wasn’t even worse. A couple standing to my right is trying to calm their noisy Golden Retriever and looks anxious to leave before the first light is even ignited. The grade school boy seated to my left has his eyes glued to his iPod touch, which apparently has more luster than the colorful shooting stars overhead. A boom, crack, and a sparkle later, the much anticipated “grand finale” is over. My aunt remarks that the show seemed a bit skimpier than last year, but that the purple and gold starbursts were pretty. I shrug and we begin to migrate towards the car. No one seems to be any happier than when they arrived.

This spectacle, which is arguably less of a tradition than Christmas trees or Halloween masks, and certainly less entertaining than even the silliest made-for-TV movies, can cost up to a whopping 30,000 dollars per show. That’s right- thirty minutes of those artificial lights in the sky could pay for your college. This is why I propose that American cities should participate in a quainter Independence Day by letting the costly firework show go up in smoke.

There are well over 40,000 cities with zip codes in the United States. There is likely more than one fireworks show per zip code, but to err on the side of inexpensiveness this seems to be a safe number to use. Multiply that by a median of, say, 20,000 dollars per show, and these vibrant safety hazards that we hold so close to our hearts have a lofty 8 billion dollar national price tag. To put that in perspective, that’s one third the cost of the Race to the Moon, and one fourth the cost of the New Deal, two events which I believe had a greater impact on American history than a year’s worth of entertaining explosives. With an ever- growing national debt, an ever-growing unemployment rate, and an ever-growing need for a revised healthcare system, surely those 8 billion dollars could be better spent. A cheaper tradition would be, well, patriotic.

Right now you are probably exercising your right to protest, grilled hot dog in hand, demanding that “Americans need a celebratory event, especially when in the midst of a recession!” or, “sure, why don’t we just do away with Christmas presents next?” But hear me out.

Other than the obvious nostalgic childhood appeal of fireworks, and possibly a dizzying headache, what would we be missing out on? There are countless ways that we could spend our national holiday that would be fun without being wasteful. We could visit Veterans Clubs or send packages to enlisted troops overseas. We could host community baseball games with a small cover charge. We could invite friends over for an ironic tea party. We could put on community plays celebrating the politicians, artists, musicians and other influential people who shaped our countries’ culture. We could even dance to remixed, fast paced versions of our National Anthem in the streets. Most importantly, we could put the money otherwise spent on an anticlimactic light show towards an impactful cause that aims to uphold the values upon which our country was founded, a notion that never loses it’s luster.