Hi, Bunny here,
I had a thought today while I was out with the pooches.
Remember that feeling on your third or fourth birthday when you get a brand new coloring book? You squeal in delight and flip through the pages admiring the clever drawings and start imagining how you will decorate the pages.
At the earliest opportunity you grab your box of well-used crayons and set to work spreading bright rainbows of enthusiastic color all over the pages of your new book. Happiness fills your tiny heart until a Highly Superior Sibling glances at the drawing.
"You have to stay between the lines," they say in a 'been there, done that' tone.
"But it's pretty," you protest.
"Doesn't matter," they reply smugly, "You have to stay between the lines, it's the rule."
Leap forward two years and picture yourself heading off to the park. Your short legs demote you to the last place in the exuberant clan as you rush up the sidewalk ahead of Mom. A street is reached and the siblings, after waiting a sufficient time for cars to disperse, begin to pelt across the street. You see a chance to pass to the front of the group and dart to the side. A squeal of tires, a yell from Mom and the next thing you know you have your arm jerked and are standing on the curb surrounded by grim-faced siblings.
"You always stay between the white lines," Mom says firmly.
"But why?" you ask, blinking back tears.
"You're safer that way," Mom explains. "It's the rule."
Now imagine a soccer field. The players flit about the field like colorful butterflies all chasing a small black and white ball. You know that your team is tied with the opponents and that you only have a few minutes left before the game is over. Suddenly the ball hurtles your way. With a burst of speed you catch up to it and begin dribbling down the field towards the goal. An opponent darts towards you and in a panic you kick the ball as hard as you can.
A groan goes up from your teammates and faraway your coach's voice yells, "Not over the line!"
A whistle sounds, and you realize you've lost the game.
"Why can't you just follow the rules?" growls a teammate.
You're a teenager and sweat is dripping down your face as you stoop to pick up a small, hard ball off the floor of the racquet-ball court. Dad's been trying to teach you how to play and you think you're finally getting the knack.
"Can I try serving it this time?" you ask.
"Sure," says Dad.
You toss the ball up in the air and bring the racquet back to swing when Dad calls, "Wait, you have to stand between the red lines."
"What for?" you ask.
"That's just the rules, " he says.
You've been going to drivers ed classes for an eternity and you finally have a drivers permit in your pocket. Early one morning Mom lets you slide behind the wheel for the first time. Painstaking you shift into reverse and back out of the driveway with exaggerated slowness. The car responds to a slight tap on the gas peddle by leaping forward with a roar. "Slowly," Mom instructs, "press gently on the gas and brake."
You nod and continue on stalwartly. The wheel feels slick under your fingers and you grab it tightly. A slight jerk of the arm and car veers dangerously close to the curb.
"Steady," says Mom. "Try to stay between the lines."
Some friends just down the street ask you to babysit for them while they go to a late-night concert. You have a license and easily drive the five or six blocks to their house. Around one o'clock they return. You make your report, receive your wages and trek back out to your little car. The hour is late and you are tired, so you proceed home about ten miles below the speed limit. A car pulls up behind you and you consider pulling over to let it pass, twice, but as you are almost home you decide not to. Suddenly with a flash of lights the sedate car behind you becomes a fiery steed of the law. You pull over as any dutiful citizen should. A light shines in your window and the officer says, "I need your licence and insurance information."
"What did I do wrong?" You ask.
"You crossed the fog line twice," he says, "I have to make sure you're not drunk."
Life is confusing sometimes. So many things change, yet so many remain through the years. I can just see some old person in a nursing home being told by a superior staff person that they must keep their wheelchair on this side of the line. America claims to be the home of the free, but how free are we if little things like lines can dictate so much of our lives? But on the other hand, where would we be without them?
Signing off, keep smiling, and stay inside the lines.
