By James Bambury
I was the reckoning in 1952. I whispered into the ear of Pete Cusimano that the only logical way to celebrate the Red Wings' Cup victory would be to throw a boiled octopus onto the ice. He and his brother obliged and saved the world. The B-52 Stratofortress made its maiden flight that same day.
A decade later I hissed in the ear of a drowsy bus driver and waking him in time to swerve around a pothole on the Highway 400. The young Paul Henderson on that bus would later save the world in his own fashion in 1972.
A month after the near bus accident, the first B-52 would be shot down over Viet Nam.
I have existed to give and take, to maintain the tide.
Fifty years after Detroit I have tendered my resignation. I have failed in this new century. I can no longer find the means to attend to the delicate balances of the world. Therefore, I have allowed myself to be imprisoned and banished from tinkering with the reckoning. The world and its mostly deserving people will have to find their own way.
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BIO: James Bambury writes from Brampton, Ontario. He writes stuff that sometimes appears online and blogs about it at http://jamesbambury.blogspot.com
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