By David G.
My teenager is one of the 7.5 million people who have downloaded the app for the week-old “Pokemon Go” game and are wandering around landmarks, businesses, parks and city streets with their smartphones to find digital creatures and score points. It blends real time maps through Google with digital magic to make little creatures pop up on the screen, as if they are actually at that spot.
For the past two days, my teen has been like an eager prospector in search of gold. At times, it reminds me more of chasing leprechauns and their pot of loot.
They are everywhere — and I mean EVERYWHERE. One was in my kitchen. In the car. By a synagogue. A fountain. The Saxophone House.
Then my teen told me there were Pokemon at Lake Temescal, my favorite walking spot.
So at sunrise this morning, I went for a jog around the lake. I tried to imagine where these digital bogeymen were lurking. I looked around as I listened to the pounding rhythm of my feet on the trail. The first rays of morning sun lit the tops of the trees along the far bank. It was a peaceful, quiet world; a sacred time.
Instead of Growlithe, I found a green heron lurking along the waterline. A fine mist glided silently across the surface of the lake like the Spirit moving on the waters, without a sign of Voltorb. I heard the sweet trill of a Wilson’s warbler, the call of a night heron, and the complicated melody of a song sparrow. There was no evidence of Nidoran, but I breathed in the tangled scents of moist earth, bay leaves and redwood. On the physical and spiritual level, God’s handiwork was everywhere. I saw it all.
I didn’t need an app for that.