Don’t Fence Me In!

A recent visit to London allowed the smaller travelers an opportunity to explore Westminster Cathedral, at the unexpected cost of exposing the accompanying adults to the importunities of a fairly sizable group fearlessly declaring, right out in front of God and all the people, their strong disapproval of nuclear incineration. They were accosting all passersby to sign petitions endorsing this courageous stand. They resembled the mixed bag of British occasionally pictured taking umbrage with picket signs in areas where the hounds pursue the fox, the parade being filled out by people riding horses and shouting, “View, halloo!” and things like that. Since there must be some limit to their numbers, one supposes that their boast of buttonholing visitors to London every day has granted a measure of peace and quiet to the hunters, so it cannot be said that their activity was entirely without merit.

Still and all, I do not like being interrupted in my peaceable conduct of my private business by any sort of enthusiast, regardless of the nature of his enthusiasm. This applies to trespassers on my property, rousting me from the shower for the purpose of entering my dwelling place to bleat about their religion and their fervor for it. It applies to young men and women clad in saffron robes who clog up the passageways in airports in order to put me in hazard of missing my plane. It applies to those who are fond of whales and wish me to add my voice and my cash to their cause. Also to be included are: those ardent in protectiveness of baby seals; those roundly displeased by the current distribution of wealth in our society; those convinced that the government should confiscate sufficient wealth from those who earn it in order to enable those who did not earn it to live in the same fashion; and . . . well, so on, far into the night. As it happens, I also dislike the prospect of being incinerated, whether in this world or the next, but I am inclined to doubt that I shall improve my chances of avoiding either by co-signing a piece of paper—neither God nor Leonid Brezhnev has lately addressed to me any communication proposing that I might.

GH

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George V. Higgins

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A recent visit to London allowed the smaller travelers an opportunity to explore Westminster Cathedral, at the unexpected cost of exposing the accompanying adults to the importunities of a fairly sizable group fearlessly declaring, right out in front of God and all the people, their strong disapproval of nuclear incineration. They were accosting all passersby to sign petitions endorsing this courageous stand. They resembled the mixed bag of British occasionally pictured taking umbrage with picket signs in areas where the hounds pursue the fox, the parade being filled out by people riding horses and shouting, “View, halloo!” and things like that. Since there must be some limit to their numbers, one supposes that their boast of buttonholing visitors to London every day has granted a measure of peace and quiet to the hunters, so it cannot be said that their activity was entirely without merit.

Still and all, I do not like being interrupted in my peaceable conduct of my private business by any sort of enthusiast, regardless of the nature of his enthusiasm. This applies to trespassers on my property, rousting me from the shower for the purpose of entering my dwelling place to bleat about their religion and their fervor for it. It applies to young men and women clad in saffron robes who clog up the passageways in airports in order to put me in hazard of missing my plane. It applies to those who are fond of whales and wish me to add my voice and my cash to their cause. Also to be included are: those ardent in protectiveness of baby seals; those roundly displeased by the current distribution of wealth in our society; those convinced that the government should confiscate sufficient wealth from those who earn it in order to enable those who did not earn it to live in the same fashion; and . . . well, so on, far into the night. As it happens, I also dislike the prospect of being incinerated, whether in this world or the next, but I am inclined to doubt that I shall improve my chances of avoiding either by co-signing a piece of paper—neither God nor Leonid Brezhnev has lately addressed to me any communication proposing that I might.