When the recycling truck heads down our street, collecting people’s glass, cans, and paper, interesting things occasionally float out of the truck and onto the street. (Which should be a reminder to everyone to shred important documents. Sometimes the wind is the greatest document thief of them all.)
This morning, I found a crumpled, college-lined piece of paper with childish handwriting on the sidewalk in front of my house. These were the opening sentences:
I’m writing to tell you how I feel about Gun Control. Gun control kills tons of people each year. [Sic.]
Despite this auspicious beginning, the rest of the document was actually a childish plea for more gun control. This is, after all, Marin. That second sentence, though, was such a perfect Freudian slip — out of the pencils of babes, so to speak — that I had to pass it on.