Sitting in my car with the engine idling, stuck behind another car that’s not moving because of obstacles in the road, I daydream that I’m standing before God at the end of my earthly life. God is looking at a big book, and apparently, that book is all about me.
I take the offensive in my defense. “Let me start by saying this about that incident in the sixth grade …”
God waves his hand and says he wants to concentrate on my attitude. “Let’s start with Genesis 1:21-22. The Fourth Day.”
I mentally go through the days of the week. “Fourth Day? You made men and women? I admit women have caused me some frustration in my life but …”
God cuts me off. “No. Let me remind you: ‘God created … all kinds of winged birds. God saw that it was good … and God blessed them, saying, ‘Be fertile, multiply and … let the birds multiply on the earth.’” He pauses. “You seem to have an issue with that?”
I immediately understand where he’s going with this. Should I play dumb?
“Don’t play dumb,” God says.
Realizing it’s useless to pretend otherwise, I admit the truth: “Yes! I don’t deny it. I hate Canada geese. I wish you never made them.”
I know I should stop, but I don’t, I can’t.
“Did you take a coffee break on the Fourth Day so the devil could make those dirty, annoying birds? They leave droppings everywhere! How did Noah not feed them to the lions? The deck must have been a mess. And they’re everywhere. Parking lots, golf courses, cemeteries, parks. And they wander out in the road and stop traffic.
“And they hiss when they get mad! The Audubon Society refers to a Canada goose as ‘this big honker.’ That honking is harsh on the ears. Even the Audubon Society says they’ve become ‘something of a nuisance’ in some places. ‘Something of a nuisance’? No, a real ‘nuisance’ where I live. Well, lived. And that’s the Audubon Society. They love birds.”
God says, “I love birds, too. Lots of people love birds. Lots of people get their pet birds blessed on the feast of Saint Francis.”
I regain my composure.
“I got carried away,” I say. “I had a bad day. I died, so … But, you know, I don’t hate all birds, not even all waterfowl. I actually like ducks a lot. Ducks are really beautiful and kind of comical at the same time. They’re funny. That’s why Disney and Looney Tunes both have cartoon ducks, right? Donald and Daffy? But Canada geese aren’t funny. Can you imagine a Canada goose in a cartoon?”
God gives a little laugh. (God laughs? Was he laughing with me or at me?) “Carl vs. the cartoon Canada geese,” he muses.
I imagine being eternally tormented by horned geese with pitchfork wings.
Turning back to me, God says, “You used to listen to Bob Dylan, yet you complain that the sounds of my geese are ‘harsh’? We’ll let that little irony pass. You complain that they’re messy. As if their messiness compares to how humans have defiled the earth.”
But to my surprise, God then says, “There are many dwelling places here, and there is one for you.”
I’m surprised, overjoyed.
God explains that my place is straight up the road, but it’s far away, so I need to drive. Heaven is a big place. A car appears. It’s obviously a used car and not a luxury model. I look and see my little house shining in the distance. It’s very far away – visibility is quite good in the Hereafter – and my joy turns to despair.
Between the gleaming house and me is a long, long road, and on that road are hundreds, thousands – maybe millions – of meandering Canada geese, honking and hissing, and ensuring that I can’t drive faster than a few inches an hour.
“Gas is still expensive here, so I hope you brought a credit card,” God says.
I hear a car horn and snap back to the present. I’m still behind the wheel of my car, not in Heaven but still in Pennsauken on North Park Drive along the Cooper River. I’m still behind another car, and other cars are behind me. All of us are burning up gas as dozens of Canada geese wander across the road at their own excruciatingly slow pace.
I think, “I’m never going to get home.”
Carl Peters is former managing editor of the Catholic Star Herald.
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