Praying, variously

I had been intending to write a little blog about the culture of "small cars" here in Southern California until yesterday, when I came upon this praying mantis on the lawn outside of the Huntington Library.

I had never seen one of these beasts before, and I had always thought they were green. A little web research (such as it is) informs me that female praying mantises are green, while those that are tan and stick-like—i.e. our friend here—are the gentlemen of the species. It was incredible to see this creature, which was probably about five inches long, move across the grass using its folded arms for support in negotiating the turf.

Following the "rustle of language" as old friend Roland used to call it, we might liken this mode of turf-negotiation to the aforementioned carts that seem to dominate these parts. Of course you will be familiar with the myths of Los Angeles and its car culture—how it subdivides not only the landscape but the population itself, alienating and scattering, leaving LA as "fifty two suburbs in search of a city."

Well, what has struck me is the specialization of these carts. Example? Well, I wasn't able to get a shot of this one from the correct direction, but on the passenger side was an inscription of dedication from some noble, charitable organization written in chaste white lettering. Directly to the left of said donor's inscription was the christened name of the cart—written both in quotation marks and shadowed italic script: "Pedro." As you may be able to guess from the photo, the gents who use and may well identify with "Pedro" are gardeners of the Latino persuasion. "Pedro" has been kitted out to accommodate their tools.

In other words, "Pedro" is visibly different in form and function from this "executive" model; let's call him "Anderson." Examples could be multiplied: I have seen various kinds of library carts, maintenance carts, construction worker carts, etc. In the present political climate, it's hard not to connect the dots between these named objectifications of professional/class identities and, say, the nearly-completed fifteen minutes of "Joe the Plumber."

All of this brings me back to the theme announced by our praying mantis and the wonderful, rapturous button I recently saw on an elevator. May it be so!