by Travis Mateer
Since turning my Trash Truck into a mobile stage for the new approach of self-promotion I’ve embarked on, I’ve had lots of interesting conversations, but one story stands out for the harsh comparison a grieving mother gave me regarding the value of her dead child, which amounted to the cost of “an expensive Lego set”.
What happened? The woman described watching a motorist hit her 12 year old kid while they were both crossing the street in a crosswalk. This lethal vehicular collision occurred in Bozeman.
What was the harshest penalty the motorist faced in this situation, the woman asked? A hundred dollar fine, she said, answering her own rhetorical question, or…the cost of an expensive Lego set.
The woman (an indigenous woman, if you’re calculating how much to care in your woke mind) was from California and, because she was a Native property owner, she had LOTS of dealings with government bureaucracy, but nothing she did in Montana amounted to getting ANY agency to give a shit that the stiffest penalty a motorist faced for the lethal car collision that killed her son in front of her was a hundred dollar fine.
I asked her if I could write about what happened to her son and she said YES, PLEASE DO! Considering I’ve spent over 4 years trying to get this community to care about the ramifications of letting the Sheriff’s Office euthanize and execute black men in our caring community, I’d say that I’m the perfect person to document yet another tragedy that won’t get the attention or justice a grieving parent needs when something terrible like this happens.
After that interaction I brought out a small bucket of Legos and not long after an older man came up, saw the Legos, and stuck his hand in like Amelie fingering a sack of grain.
When the old man got his phone out without saying anything and started scrolling, I started getting curious. When he finally found the image he was looking for, he came over to show me that, like me, he was a MASTER BUILDER.
When I see a Missoulian article about unique approaches to theater hit the same day I post about wanting to Doctor Parnassus the streets of Zoom Town, then see an AWFUL politicizing of Legos, well, I know I have to GET TO WORK to counter the bullshit.
Maybe Trump Junior will appreciate how I have his Dad riding on the three-headed pig beast of the apocalypse.
While I’m being super creative and documenting tragic ACTIONS, the engagement I got on Facebook recently centered on my use of the “R” word because, as I was reminded in the parking lot of the Good Food Store this week, the terrible use of LANGUAGE is what concerns a seeming majority of people in this town.
Here’s the triggered comment of a woman who used to employ me and who allowed the violation of my first amendment right to free speech to take place at the non-profit she led for three decades because Gwen Jones phoned her up after I wrote my sidewalk poem.
Do I have patience for this bullshit? Nope, I’m pretty busy hustling the money to cover one more month of rent before I call my Trash Truck home.
If you would like to help this wonderful life transition, Travis’ Impact Fund (TIF) could use a donation or two. I set the amount of $5,000 last year, and have inched toward that goal month after month, but since The Pulp is ALSO asking for $5,000, and they go DAYS without new content going up, well, I think it’s obvious who you should support.
No post this Sunday, but I’m sure I’ll have something fun for Monday, so stay tuned.
Thanks for reading!
