Life as I see it : Rubbers bands, chocolate – two great discoveries

I stretch a rubber band between my fingers, release it and it snaps back into its oval shape. I pull it again, this way and that, and it insists on snapping into its oval shape. I frown at the rubber band and stuff it back into a box with its brothers. How annoying. The band wasn’t going to be made into an S or an L or any other letter. It’s an oval, and an oval it insists on staying.

So when did rubber bands wend their way into our society? Here’s the deal: In 1496, when Christopher Columbus returned to the West Indies, he stopped on the island of Hispaniola, which is now home to two nations, Haiti and the Dominican Republic. He and his crew were amazed to see the locals bouncing an awkward shaped ball made of a sticky sap from the rubber tree. He brought this sap back to Europe and but it was unusable until 1839 because a stable product couldn’t be made of it.

Charles Goodyear, the tire guy, invented the process called vulcanization. This stabilized and strengthened the threadlike molecules of rubber, and now we have tires, hoses, moldings, and of course, rubber bands. Today the trees that produce this bouncy sap have been transplanted and are cultivated on large plantations in Indonesia, Malaysia, Thailand and the west coast of Africa.

Christopher Columbus and his wandering band of explorers contributed two of the world’s greatest discoveries – the new world and what was to become America, and chocolate. I’m not certain which I consider to be the most important – probably chocolate. But I’m not sure everybody else would agree.

I mix up a cup of hot chocolate, grab my rubber band and join my husband for a trip to the gated Hayden community of Forest Hills. This luxurious housing division has a personal security guard who watches over it. I think about shooting him with my rubber band, but I am afraid he might shoot me back … with something more deadly. So I put my rubber band in my lap and let it lie in its oval shape.

We drive slowly, enjoying the sights. The houses are beautiful, but actually we are looking for deer. I heard there was a three-legged mother deer that comes regularly to graze on the neighborhood’s flowers during the spring. In the winter some kind-hearted people set out food for her. In essence, she has been adopted as the unofficial pet or pest, depending on whom you talk to in Forest Hills. In return, each year she brings her latest fawn, and the neighborhood has the pleasure of watching a wild creature grow to maturity.

We look and look, but we don’t see her. We don’t even see her tracks in the snow, so I wonder if she still comes to the neighborhood. I’ve heard that she and her young have caused considerable damage to the landscaping of the local homeowners over the years.

Every year the conflict between the wild creatures who roam these lands and the occupants who live on them heats up, and there are great debates and discussions. I don’t have an answer to this debate. I am glad, however, to see that people care enough to discuss the question of what to do about, or for, our wild animals. Having lived in the Bay Area for years, just seeing a wild creature is an amazing treat to me. I truly hope our community won’t lose the opportunity for our children and grandchildren to see the wild creatures of this earth. And trust me, a zoo just isn’t the same as seeing the magnificent creatures that survive in the wild.

I know a great many people hunt either for sport or for winter food storage here. I appreciate the struggle for survival in both humans and animals. However, unlike the rubber band, no amount of regret or even petting zoos will snap back the loss of our wild creatures as their habitat dwindles.

I sip my hot cocoa and ponder the finer points of my snapping rubber band, the lives of my four-legged friends and my neighbors who faithfully plant new bulbs and plants every year, only to see them nibbled away. I’m glad I live in a community where people appreciate the beauty of nature and are willing to tolerate its foibles. Maybe some creative person will put forth an idea that will give a measure of peace to both sides of this community issue.

Driving past the security guard, my husband and I exit the gated community. Over Hayden Lake the sun has broken through the gray clouds and is shooting bright yellow beams that will melt the frozen snow still covering the trees and lawns. My hot chocolate is getting cold, and we haven’t seen the three-legged deer. My rubber band, however, just sits on my lap like a big oval mouth.