3.07.2022
Of Men and Cardboard
I was walking home alone in the neighborhood tonight. It was a dark and stormy night. (Literally.)
A man walking maybe two feet in front of me turns and says, "Young lady..." and I prepare to don my armor, avert my gaze, and walk as quickly as I can away from him. (You know, that "uh oh" moment when a man you don't know starts speaking to you on the street and you don't know if he's going to curse you out or ask for money or say something about your becoming figure. Just part of city living!)
But he continues, with the very slightest accent, "In the 55 years I have been living in this country, I have never seen it like this. Never!"
I don't know what he's referring to, exactly--Covid? opioid epidemic? poverty?--but I say, "Yeah," in agreement.
(I am sure that it has never been like this in the past 55 years.)
Then he says, "May God bless us all" and I respond, "Amen!" with hearty conviction.
Sometimes these random interactions with strangers on the street turn out to be just a decent moment of agreement between two humans, briefly passing each other on the street at 10 pm during a storm.
A block and a half later a sturdy piece of cardboard flew at me, literally, hurled by the strong winds. It hit my elbow and then continued on down the street.
I'd rather be at odds with a piece of cardboard than another person, any day of the week.
Labels: Covid-19, life, New York
