“When pigs fly” indicates we think something is impossible.  As does “when fish ride bicycles”.  True enough, but what a delightful, whimsical way of saying we think it’s never going to happen.  Generally our pessimism, justified as it may be, takes on a darker tone, as in “when hell freezes over”, or “spitting in the wind”.  No doubt we have more words for the absolutely impossible than the possibly attainable, and we can be particularly reluctant to share what others might call our “pipe dreams”.   But while big dreams certainly can go up in smoke, they are also the only way big things happen.  Even truly impossible dreams, like charging windmills, can also come to good ends.  Dreamers have a way of “upsetting the applecart” regarding our comfortable way of doing things, including within our own families.  But dreaming big allows us to catch a glimpse of those cool pigs flying by, just out of reach.

From the center of Ridgewood, I can go 4 miles northwest to Wyckoff, 4 miles northeast to Hillsdale, and 4 miles southeast to Oradell.  But if I want to go 4 miles southwest, it is normally said I’m going into Paterson.  Just a slight change in direction and preposition, except that the phrase “going into” is generally reserved for places like the hospital and outer space.  When I was part of a couple of intentional interracial partnerships I spent quite a bit of time in Paterson.  One night on my way to a church meeting I was stopped by two Paterson police officers.  They told me the only reason white people “come into” Paterson at night was to buy drugs, and I ended up with a police escort to church.  Another evening I went with a friend of mine who was giving a talk on organic gardening.  We got lost and stopped to ask directions of a group of teenage boys.  I found it heartbreaking to see the looks of real terror on their faces – they assumed that two white women who would ask directions of a group of young black men must be armed or insane. 

 Many Paterson folks still come into northern Bergen County to work in hospitals, businesses, and private homes.  I’ll know that the prepositions and the relationships have truly realigned when on my street I finally see a white woman pushing a black baby in a stroller.

How is it that a car crash can tie up traffic on both sides of the highway?  A small or even a terrible accident can be completely contained on one side of the divider; yet traffic can also come to a virtual standstill on the other side.  Rubbernecking we call it, implying we have to really work at getting a look.  What are we looking for?  If it’s reassurance that no one was seriously hurt, news is at our fingertips, we no longer have to wait for the morning paper.  The disturbing reality, however, is that we can find injury enticing.  Are we hoping to catch a glimpse of someone bleeding, in pain, or dead?  Surely we get enough of that on our TV screens.  Behavior doesn’t have to be against the law to be indicative of the lowest common denominator in human nature.