The Echo Park "Goose Troupe"

A tranquil Saturday morning at Echo Park in Los Angeles.
I was on a three day sabbatical to the City of Angels for a quick toe dip into the busy lives of my daughters.
A welcome respite from the responsibilities of everyday duties. 
We decided to take a walk to the nearby park to exercise the restless pups and breathe in the promise of Spring.
Echo Park is situated in an older ethnic neighborhood rich in smells, sounds, diverse cultures and life!
The park is happily only one short block from their house and was closed for two long years for a spectacular facelift.
They closed the entire site complete with barricades to dredge out layers of rotted, rancid droppings from the bottom of the lake and replace the water. 
The city installed geyser fountains, planted new grass, built a quaint coffee house resembling a lighthouse and transformed the once dying space into a living oasis for the concrete jungle citizens. 
Complete with fish, paddle boats and various species of waterfowl. 
On the weekends it is especially thriving.
Old men playing checkers on picnic tables cackling with delight as they conquer the board.
Mothers pushing strollers of fussy children.
The runners of all ages and sizes, from the Weight Watcher pack checking their FitBits, to the reed thin marathoner who appeared to have been air dropped directly out of the sky from Kenya.
Skin a glistening healthy cocoa sporting a massive stark white beard. 
Muscles in harmony with energy.

In the "zone".
As I watched him stride toward me I found myself envying his effortless ability to glide over the pavement in his bright green Nikes.
The kids took off to circle the park with the crazy canines in tow and because of my recent knee surgery I sat down on a bench to people watch.
It was then that I saw them.
Three geese in the park.
A pilgrimage of peckage. 
Stairsteps in featherhood.
Lazily waddling across the grass, in a row, looking for a handout. 
A Saturday morning breadcrumb banquet.
The smallest goose a muddy gray, dull mottled feathers, not a stand out by any means.
But quick, darting, purposeful.
The obvious motivated leader of this pack of begging ne're do wells. 
The second goose in line was bigger. 
A cream colored, slothful, rotund creature.
In no hurry.
Over-sized neon-orange webbed feet. 
Content to be the middle child of this band of misfits.
Plodding aimlessly behind his gray commander.
Unquestioning.
Following.
And last in this goose stepping gaggle was a massive gander.
Standing over 2 feet tall, gorgeous black and white feathers, decorative orange and blood red markings above a long black beak.
Impressive fellow. 
I watched as they bullied their way out of the reeds by the water and followed their diminutive leader toward the closest human. 
The grey goose chose a group of four perched by the edge of the water with their pants rolled up to the knees dangling their toes in the murky green water.
Backpacks strewn about, a round of Starbucks clutched to their chests. 
"Ooohhh look!"
"How adorable!"
"Isn't he beautiful!" (referring to the gander)
Out came the phones and the IPads clicking the honking group into cyberspace for all to see.

(The picture above was not any of them, but it amused me when I found it on my Internet search under "goose") 

I admit that I wish I had brought my phone with me.
"He's so big!"
"Look at his markings!"
As if on cue he began to turn, "strutting his stuff", drawing more people to wander over to observe. 
The crowd searched for goodies to stall the threesome, bits of Starbucks scones, broken saltines, infants Goldfish cracker snacks.
The middle goose was friendly, nibbling directly from outstretched palms, coaxing donations from the admirers. 
The gray commander goose gleaned his share from the onlookers but wanted no part of them close up.
Meanwhile the gander performed his role perfectly in this waterside ballet.
The sideshow hawker drawing in the admiring patrons. 
No real effort involved, just being the fluffy eye candy. 
The hard sell.
This scene played out for some time with more people joining the “Goose Admiration Society” by the minute. 
Eventually duties beckoned, attention waned, babies grew fussy and the crowd began to scatter. 
As if on cue, the gray goose sensed the slowdown, hustled his hustlers into a row and set off in search of new frontiers. 
I watched as they waddled away, next to the lakeside looking for a new audience. 
I smiled to myself thinking they were a sort of microcosm of our society.
The non-descript hard working folks.
Flying under the radar.
Doing most of the work but not getting or wanting the attention.
The reward WAS the work.
Then there are the followers.
Amicable.
Friendly.
Happy.
Content to be on the fringes but contributing their part to the project.
And finally the "Stars Of The Show!"
The pretty face on the brochure.
The media darlings.
The attraction.
The lure with no job but just showing up. 
But useless without someone to guide them to the gold. 
I chuckled to myself and wondered which one am I?
As a group they were productive and content.
By themselves they would go hungry.
We all play our part no matter how mundane or grandiose it may seem. 
We are all in this crazy world together whether we acknowledge it or not.
Find your part.
Play it well.
No matter how big or small we are all pieces of this puzzle we call life. 
We ARE the meaning.
We ARE the work. 
Oh, and one more thing. 
My band of wandering geese wanted me to remind you,

Always remember that,
"One man's crumbs are another man's banquet!"

I’m just sayin'…....