The Story of Shiva

Shiva appeared on the curb in front of my friend Mary's house around the corner. Sarah and I were walking by and thought it odd that Mary would have him sitting on her little patch of grass facing her home. So we knocked on her door to get the scoop. Before Mary could answer, her next door neighbor poked her head out and asked us what was up with the statue. Apparently, she'd noticed it, too, and was on stakeout. So now Mary, her neighbor, Sarah and I are all on the stoop staring at Shiva. (I know his name is Shiva because I went to the Rhode Island School of Design Museum last year. They have a lovely Asian Art collection, and I read all the little tags next to displays, so there you go. There was also the biggest Buddha I've ever been in a room with there. I have a pretty good idea of the difference between Buddha and Shiva now.) Mary's wigging over her mystery visitor: Is it a gift? From whom? Is it an omen? Of what? Why is she the recipient of a Buddha? This can't be good. She wants it to go away, but is hesitant to even go near it.

Note: no one is even slightly interested that I know it's Shiva, not Buddha.

So, what should one do with an unwanted item on one's curb? Call Tim! He's the Mikey of the curb-shopping set. He skedaddled over, admired the lovely patina, serene expression, and suitability as a garden accessory, and instantly claimed Shiva as his own, saying "Oh, look, another Buddha for the yard". *sigh* He was obviously NOT reading the little tags in RISD. Shiva now chills on the rocks by the gazebo.