It's only insanity until a second Loon joins in the fun.
One almost chilly evening, a lanky man who lived at the end of our street aligned his ladder to the edge of his roof. Holding a paper plate and plastic cup in one hand, he pulled himself onto his roof with his other.
He shimmied to the apex of his roof and dangled his thin legs over the edge. Carefully balancing his dinner plate along the roofline and his cup on his knee, he peered at the horizon. Occasionally munching on his pickle sandwich and cheese crackers.
The kids in the street caught sight of the man eating his dinner on the roof. Hopscotchers called big sisters, and stick ballers called out to older brothers to come and take a look. The parents came out because the kids were being "too quiet."
Soon all joined at the curb to point and whisper, "Look at the Loony on his roof!"
The man signaled to those below to come on up. The people on the curb murmured among themselves.
"You going up there?" they whispered to each other.
"Not me," they said.
The neighbors agreed the man was insane and returned to their TVs, stickball, hopping, or scotching.
It wasn't long before curiosity again got the best of everybody. "Is he still up there?"
They checked again.
He was. But now, there were two Loonies on their rooves.
Neighbors ran to their garages to get their ladders. "There has to be a reason they are up there. "
In a short time, every house had young and old holding tightly to chimneys, wind veins, and attic vents. Leaving behind the news blaring on the TVs, the balls rolling down storm drains, and the ice melting in their glasses of scotch.
Each looked frantically for a reason that their neighbors had grabbed their ladders and climbed to the roof.
They saw nothing but the sun setting like it did every day.
They looked back and forth at each other, "What the heck are they doing on the roof? Where is the flood?"
They called out to their bewildered neighbors, finally admitting they had no idea why they were on their rooftops.
They came down quicker than when they went up.
"How dangerous! How stupid! What a waste of time! Sitting on the roof like that!" they decried. Scolding their children as they put their ladders back in the garage. Returning to their time-compressed couches, lamenting the missed catastrophes described in great detail by the shiny teeth on TV.
All roofs emptied but seven. Three at the end of the street next to the Loon's house, and four spread intermittently along the street.
The sky got dark. The stars grew bright. The kids headed in.
Then suddenly.
Swoosh! Flash! Wow! Ahhhh! The sky lit up with hundreds of falling stars, enough to answer every birthday wish for months and miles. The dogs barked, and the lighting bugs tried to keep up.
"Wow! Wow! ...Wow!" yelled those Loons on their roofs as the night sky streaked in celestial white fires. A show seen once a century.
Meanwhile. the Dads on their couches yelled at their dogs to shut up, mashing the volume button on their remotes.
Some kids by luck caught a sliver of the spectacle, seeing what was visible between the window shades and tops of windows.
The white streaks quickly dispersed, and the dark skies returned. As the Loonies descended their ladders, they quietly waved thanks to the first Loon for the invitation to join him.
But they were all more thankful to the second Loony. The one who climbed on the neighboring roof and stayed there. Without her, the first Loon would have only looked crazy, and the others would never have ventured to stay, foregoing their remotes, sticks, hops, and scotch.
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When one person acts "ridiculous," they call it "Insanity."
But when two act ridiculous together, they call it "Silliness."
Three silly people are "Having fun."
Twenty is a "Party."
A thousand is a "Festival."
One hundred thousand is a "Movement."
And one million is a "Revolution."
No Revolution ever happened without a second Loony.
Photo by Глеб Ефимов on Unsplash
Photo by Jeremy Thomas on Unsplash
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