fan

heat rises from the sun-baked valley. i call it a valley, even though it's hardly even a hill. i pass a woman with a young grandson, both wearing coats and squatting on the hillside sharing food out of a paper bag. they don't seem to understand why i am wearing a t-shirt and shorts, but there is a sheen of sweat baked onto my face.

a silvered old man in a steelers jacket and beanie raises a fist to the sky as we pass each other. 'get on, keep it moving, get on out there,' he cheers, and i return his salute.

i sprint down the bridge in both directions, grateful for the crosswind that pulls moisture from my face and leaves only salt. it takes only fifteen minutes before i catch up to my number one fan of the day, and when i come up behind him under the tunnel, i shout, 'hey, i'm catching up to you!'

'oh! it's you! you made it back! keep on running, you keep moving there!'

his voice falls away, indistinct and blown apart by parkway traffic, but i round the corner with one hand raised high so he can see me. i run more upright, striding out, shoulders even, when i have an audience. i cannot yet imagine that i always have an audience.

Permalink
19 March 2018 20:33

take one

'please,' he said. 'please, take one. take one.'

usually, i'm curious. i want to know what inspired someone to expend the resources to produce stacks of flyers, to commit a cold afternoon standing on a street corner engaging with strangers. but rarely is this corner occupied by someone whose message i want to hear. from half a block away, i could hear him, and i could see that no one took any of the plain white printouts from his gloved hands.

'no thanks,' i said, in the nicest voice i could manage. i found his carefully neutral demeanor distasteful, i found the feather in his had distasteful, i found his tan wool coat distasteful, i found his insistent offer to every single person distasteful.

'what's this all about, then?' said one of the old ladies who stacked up behind me at the crosswalk.

'about the passover, ma'am,' he replied in that same cardboard cutout smile voice. 'all about the passover, and christ.'

'oh, no. no, we don't want that,' she said, wrinkling her nose.

it's a public sidewalk, i remind myself. we all have the right to stand on a street corner and proselytize, i remind myself. that's part of the deal.

we also all have the right to find it distasteful, that a charming middle aged-man in small glasses and quiet clothes would walk up and down a block that connects several temples and ask the jews to consider that his beliefs are better than theirs.

years ago, on this same corner, a young man stood with a clipboard, asking everyone who passed by if they were registered to vote, and offered to help fill out forms for anyone who needed it. 'are you just looking for democrats?' accused an ornery old man.

'sir, i help anyone register to vote,' he said calmly. 'do you need to register?'

and before the old man could counter, an old lady stepped between them, raising the handle of her folded umbrella.

'don't go starting trouble here!' she demanded, staring the old man down until he backed off. 'don't go picking fights!'

'i'm registered already, thanks,' i said as i passed. i gave him a smile, and a nod. the turnout on election day is only around a fifth of eligible voters. i don't understand why it's so low.

Permalink
15 March 2018 15:00

habaneros

i took my snack break on the steps outside of the library, facing a dirty brick wall that separated the walkway from a looming victorian house next door. shoveled snow piled around me, though the concrete was dry; cold seeped through the seat of my jeans quickly enough to dull the flesh, so i no longer minded it.

i bit into my apple while watching three teenagers saunter out the back door, one of them clutching a plastic bag of produce. 'habanero? you want a habanero?' the bag was offered to an old man on his way out.

'oh, no thanks,' he said, laughing.

'how bout you? need a habanero?'

i gave a little wave with the half-gnawed apple in my numb fingers. 'nah, i'm good, thanks.'

'good choice,' mumbled one of the other teens. they continued down the path, challenging each other to eat habaneros until they puked.

i was at least this weird as a teenager.

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09 March 2018 16:39

how to make friends on the street

he was walking towards me, a big guy with wild dreadlocks spilling out of a black down jacket and a deep hood. i've learned to recognize the way someone holds a vape in their hand, but i could barely see the mouthpiece hidden between his fingers. i have this tendency to stare at people, sometimes, and i was looking for earphones or a headset somewhere under his hair, because he was talking, a lot. people talk when they walk alone all the time these days, into some wires attached to a phone, or some device that projects communication through the air.

but then he held out his free hand in front of me, fingers splayed, in the 'stop stop where you are' gesture, and i froze mid-step. 'excuse me, excuse me!' he said urgently. i worried. 'i love your hair!'

my hand went up to my shoulder; i forgot what my hair looked like. i had two layers of hoods; one for warmth, the second for rain protection, which i pulled up around my dreads. they spilled down the front of my chest, almost to my waist. they were much longer than his.

'thanks, man.'

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14 February 2018 19:29

bike greetings

some people frown at me when they see me on my bicycle. sometimes, it's their response to imagining themselves on a bicycle. 'can't you walk to work instead? what about the bus?'

sometimes it's a frustration that i'm in their way, that my presence forces them to be more careful, that they're worried something bad might happen to me and they have to see it.

but sometimes, i'll pass someone who looks at me and grins through their scarf. sometimes, i pass the old security guard who's been keeping an eye out for me since i was a teenager, and raise a hand in greeting. 'hey! you're making me look bad,' he protests.

'you can be out here with me, too,' i shout back, and his reply is blown away by the wind as i slide around the corner.

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07 February 2018 15:23