Thursday, April 11, 2013

Breaking Things

Yesterday as I did my walk around of the church grounds, it caught my eye quickly.   The portion of the church sign that announces service times was no longer hanging from the sign, but lying askew on the ground below.

Hmmm, thought I.  It had been windy.  Perhaps that was it.

But when I approached it, I saw two things.  First, that the screw-in eye-hook that affixed it had been pulled clean out of the socket.

And second, that on the ground by the sign was a bottle, a twenty-four ounce half-full plastic water bottle.  The bottle was significantly dented on the outside, and the top, when I picked it up, was both mashed in and dirt covered.

I briefly did that Sherlock Holmes adding-things-up bit in my brain.

Location and condition of bottle.  Sign position.  Trauma around hole that had held mounting hook.

Ah.  Most likely scenario: bottle thrown from passing car, sign as intentional target.

I searched the grassy ground delicately, seeking the rust-brown hook with hands and eyes.  It took a moment, but there it was.  Relatively undamaged.  Well, there was a few pennies saved.

I tested the hole that had held it, to see if the damage would prevent it from being easily reassembled.   With a little force and pressure, it dug in deeper, and held strongly enough to resist a sustained pull.  I reinserted hook into eyelet.  Good as new.

I have never understood the human desire to break things.  Well, actually, no.  I guess I do understand it.

We do so love that feeling of power.