Three angels, up above the street,
Each one playing a horn,
Dressed in green robes with wings that stick out,
They've been there since Christmas morn.
The wildest cat from Montana passes by in a flash,
Then a lady in a bright orange dress,
One U-Haul trailer, a truck with no wheels,
The Tenth Avenue bus going west.
The dogs and pigeons fly up and they flutter around,
A man with a badge skips by,
Three fellas crawling on their way back to work,
Nobody stops to ask why.
The bakery truck stops outside that fence where the angels stand high on their poles,
The driver peaks out trying to find one face,
In this concrete world of souls.
The angels play on their horns all day,
The whole Earth in progression seems to pass by.
But does anyone hear the music they play,
Does anyone even try?
(Copyright 1970 Big Sky Music)
Dylan's lyrics have a way of making me see things differently than I otherwise would.
This is my last column for the Weekly. After helping start this newspaper almost 30 years ago, I've decided I wanted to take my journalism experience and find ways to use it in the non-profit world or an educational role.
It's been an extraordinary experience to work here for so long and to be such a part of the community through the people I've gotten to know.
Reporters tend to see the worst of things, because that's our job. But we also see the humanity and kindness that people have, which goes a long way to help make sense of things.
When I've met people for the first time, or have taken calls from someone I don't know, there has often been an easy, assumed familiarity on the part of the other person because he or she may have felt they have known me through my writing.
It's part of being in a community together. That's part of the sense of community that the Weekly tries to provide and will continue to try to provide.
The Town Square forum on our Web page, Palo Alto Online, often has thoughtful and gracious postings. But too often, people are almost spitting mad at each other, which is curious since they almost all post anonymously so they don't really know whom they're angry at.
Palo Alto may not be different than any other town with driven, successful — and opinionated — people.
But the sign of a healthy relationship, a healthy family dynamic or a healthy community is how well disagreements and problems are handled.
There's still some distance to go on that score, and always will be.
Back in the days when reporters wrote their stories on typewriters, reporters would type "more" at the end of each page as a signal to the typesetters sitting in the composing room at huge, wonderfully clanking Linotype machines that there was more of the story still to come.
At the end of the story, reporters would type "-30-" to signal the end of the story to the typesetters — believed to be a holdover from the old telegraph days as a sign off to a story or message.
It's been grand, but this is my "-30-" for the Weekly.
This story contains 564 words.
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