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After Dr. Seuss, Dr. Rick is my favorite doctor. Dr. Rick looks like a high school math teacher and employs the same firm approach to his difficult subject. He holds seminars and takes his students on field trips to practice applying their knowledge. Sure, Dr. Rick is a Progressive, but I think anyone over the age of 40 can agree with his mission: keeping young homeowners from turning into their parents. I have seen myself and my friends in his students: trying to find the silent button on a smart phone, or coming to the seminar with printed driving directions, or wondering, “Was I hash-tagging?” I and my friends are guilty of the Live, Love, Laugh signs, yard gnomes, and too many pillows. And how many of the same t-shirts do I own? I know about coat wrangling, wishing for paper tickets at the airport, worrying about how I will get out of the parking lot before I get inside the arena, and how to pronounce q-u-i-n-o-a? I love this visual proof that I am not alone, that our shared humanity includes naiveté at every stage of life. Even as older adults, we have our moments in which we are like innocent preschoolers playing dress-up, trying on dad’s shoes or mom’s apron. The commercials remind us that sometimes adults must feign being “big” too as in Dr. Rick’s case examples, trying to be knowledgeable and experienced homeowners. When we were young, it seemed that our parents were all-knowing and without doubts. I grew up assuming there was some type of “grown-up” switch that when activated, a child became an all-knowing, capable adult. I never thought for a moment that my parents might not know what they were doing! I didn’t realize that they had to negotiate their learning curves too. And that they may have lived with regrets for purchases and decisions made. When we think of growing older, we picture the graying hair, sagging skin, a little arthritis maybe. We never imagine the subtle ways in which we age, the ways in which life can leave us behind: adapting to new technology, our outdated home décor and wardrobes, the things we talk about and who we talk to, and our general loss of confidence in how things work. These Progressive Insurance commercials were introduced in April 2020 during the pandemic, a time of global strain when we had our doubts that anyone anywhere knew what they were doing. Perhaps we are there again. Never has there been a time in my lifespan when we’ve needed to laugh at ourselves more and to recognize our shared humanity and our foibles. That would be progress! I guess there are things left to learn at any age. Thanks, Dr. Rick, for not giving up on us! And please, someone let me know when Netflix turns these commercials into a series. I’ve lost my TV Guide.
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Each morning I thank God for the shared-use bike path outside my door. It keeps me sane and literally on the straight and narrow path during these difficult times. Despite its location along a four-lane, high-access highway, it is not deprived of nature. The city has planted a line of trees that form a barrier between the highway and some of the commercial buildings. Many of the businesses maintain small gardens and pots of flowers at their doors. Every establishment is surrounded by well-manicured lawns from which the dandelions cheer me on as they rise up in the lawn mower’s wake. The rabbits, squirrels, groundhogs, and birds long ago found peace in being city-dwellers living along this well-traveled path. My favorites among nature’s local inhabitants are the long lines of sassy geese that bring rush hour traffic to a screeching halt. I laugh out loud as they take their goosy time high-stepping across all four lanes. Yesterday, as I circled the large empty parking lot at the end of the path, empty save for me and a lawn care worker with a noisy leaf blower that is, a hawk swooped down and startled both of us. As the hawk drifted in for a landing, it spread its wings wide showing off its soft feathers of white and tan—a beautiful chalk portrait against a pale blue sky. The large bird came to rest on a rail of the railroad tracks within feet of me and the noisy leaf blower. The hawk looked regal as it perched there. Its appearance was so surprising and beautiful that the lawn care worker turned off his leaf blower, and we both stood there looking at the hawk who was sizing us up. The hawk didn’t seem to be in any hurry as he kept us pinned to the spot with its eyes. Traffic zoomed by behind us and yet, there we stood the three of us. It was the lawn care worker who finally broke the gaze. He didn’t seem able to get back to work with the hawk staring at him, and so he shooed the hawk away and fired up the leaf blower. I marched forward returning to the worn bike path, but the hawk remained with me as my mind’s fresh companion. I wanted to hold on to its beauty, the softness of its feathers, the wonder of its flight, the hope that it stirred in me even as I wondered: what did the hawk see when it looked at me? At the leaf-blowing lawn care worker? What does nature make of man? Did the hawk see beauty too? Was it curious about our lives and where we came from, what we were up to? Where we were going? Did it admire me moving on two feet as much as I admired it moving on wings? Like people, some creatures in nature are timid. They scatter and crawl back into their holes at the sight, sound, or smell of strangers or unexpected sounds. Some prepare to attack. But others, like the regal hawk and the sassy geese, will not be shaken or deterred. They claim their spaces even in the face of leaf blowing machines. They own the road even in the face of speeding two ton vehicles. They do what they do as nature prescribed, strong in their conviction that the rights of nature are ensured. Perhaps that is what there is to admire in God’s creatures, in addition to their beauty. They do not live constricted by worry or self-doubt. They have faith in their instincts. They don’t curse when the shelves are empty. They move on with a simple faith in provision. They don’t calculate every move, anticipate every potential problem; they simply live. A few miles later, I returned home with the hawk’s sudden appearance still on my mind. Alone, I engaged AI with my questions. AI told me that hawks are associated with vision, power, and freedom. They have exceptional eyesight that represents clarity, perspective, and an ability to see the bigger picture. They embody strength and dominance in the animal kingdom symbolizing courage and assertiveness, and freedom to pursue goals without constraints. In many cultures hawks are seen as messengers of spiritual awakening encouraging individuals to trust their instincts and intuition. In different cultures the hawk is a symbol of protection, guidance, power, and freedom. I had no reason to doubt AI. It merely confirmed what I had already felt as the hawk swooped down and settled on the railroad tracks to hold me in its gaze. Perhaps it was no coincidence. The wonder of nature may be that the hawk, with its heavenly instincts, came looking for me. |
AuthorLilli-ann Buffin Archives
November 2025
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