Watching out my bedroom office window yesterday…

The neighborhood kids often cut across the yard above us and then our front driveway area on their way home from school. It shortens the trip by a few crucial meters. Yesterday, a boy of 12-13 stopped in the driveway and bent over. I was on the phone and paused the conversation to see what he was doing. He picked up a handful of the small driveway gravel in each hand and stuffed it in his sweatshirt pockets. Then he repeated the process. Now he headed on down to the street.

This I had to see.

50′ below our house, in the middle of the street, he paused, looked around. Then he removed a handful of gravel from his pocket and threw it straight up in the air. He then quickly pulled his sweatshirt hood over his head, hunched slightly, and let the gravel rain down on him. He repeated this twice more.

The more hopeful conclusion here is that it was simply a Dave Barry-esque “What happens if I do the following mildly stupid thing?” moment. The more sober thought is that it was an attempt to feel some sensation – that he needed something as significant as rocks falling on him from the sky to feel something. The thought that that might be explanation made me ineffably sad.