Our backyard is full of dead leaves plastered to the blasted, straw-pale grass, a startling contrast to the copse of green-leaved trees that dominates the space.
The rest of our neighborhood looks the same; a canopy of forest green leaves shadow the wafer thin, burnt yellow leaves strewn along the boulevard. And yet the majority of front lawns here remain a vibrant emerald. It is easy to imagine Rod Serling standing at the end of the block, gesturing at the contrast behind him and, in a half turn, intoning…
“Imagine if you will a place where sudden danger lies hidden within the exuberance of life; a place that appears warm, safe and inviting but in reality is a trap for the innocent, kind or simply unwary. A place that metes out only unexplained death while appearing to offer beneficence. This is such a place. You’re traveling through another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind; a journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of imagination. That’s the signpost up ahead—your next stop, the Twilight Zone.”
Thus is our summer in Kansas City.
- In a different era, not that long past, the olive tinged foliage hiding sturdy boughs might will shadow the depending body of a more honorable man. No such luck here, one suspects. ↩
- I suppose kudos are in order for the Star’s rather belated stance. Although, again, without Fitz’s original prompting, I’m not sure any of this happens. Well done, sir. ↩