Rain Gryphon

I saw something today which I have never seen (or even heard of) before, and hope (probably in vain), that I shall never see again. I live in Westerville, Ohio. Two of our police officers were murdered in an ambush today. I didn't know either one, but I've seen them both around, at the grocery store and such. That was early this afternoon. Tonight, about eight, as I was driving on the 270 going for dinner, I saw the air (heavy with mist) glowing and flickering rapidly just over the crest of a hill. It looked like nothing I'd ever seen. I thought first of lightning, and then of a downed power line, but it didn't really look like either. And then I topped the hill, and saw: it was police cars, at least a hundred, maybe more, all making a slow anticlockwise procession around the beltway.

It was an amazing sight. I have never seen that many flashers in one place, not even in parades. There's a sort of visceral response to it, in that one associates those lights with danger, especially coming upon them unexpectedly. They were in the opposite lanes, but still, we all slowed to a crawl as they went past. They just kept coming, and coming; Westerville Police, City Police, Sheriff's Deputies, Highway Patrol - just everyone. And you look at all that, and reflect that every man and woman riding in those cars are prepared, each and every time they go to work, to lay down their lives, unselfishly, and without hesitation, to keep the rest of us safe.

And I'm glad that I saw that, but I hope never to see such a thing again.

And I'm home now, and enjoying the Olympics, but it's not as much fun as it was this morning.