An evening walk thru the neighborhood.

Since I stayed home all day working on my computer, I felt a bit of lassitude and decided to take a little walk up to the boulevard and around Saint Ignatius High School.  The weather had been cold and very overcast--a typical Sunset foggy day, leaving me feeling somewhat dreary.  I walked slowly uphill, thinking I wanted to find a shorter route home, but I kept going, cutting through the playground and up the path by the community gardens.  Seeing trees and colorful plants seemed to cheer me up.  Then I walked by the high school, watching the kids coming from the swimming pool wrapped in towels and shouting gleefully with their youthful energy.  They perked up my spirit.

On the way downhill, back to my home, I seemed to focus on the uglier aspects of my neighborhood.  The overhead electrical wires seemed like a tangled conglomeration of metal and tubing, creating a terrible eye-sore.  Then I noticed furniture sitting out on the sidewalk--worn out sofas and chairs with signs that said "free." Don't they know it is not lawful to leave your junk on the street.

It has become a custom to leave unwanted, but somewhat useful items out on the sidewalk for people to take.  This practice seems to be successful.  There are often people scouring the neighborhood looking for stuff to pick up.  I often leave my discards out for charitable pick-ups, but often people on the street rifle through the bags looking for whatever they find useful.  Now I am learning from my "Next Door" App that people will post that they have something to give away and then give a location for pickup--that works well.   It seems to be a culture of "sharing"out there in the community.

The other day, however, this sharing culture had a funny outcome.  In the front of our house, I had a plantar box  made by my son out of old, grey fence wood which blew down in a storm.   I had filled it with planting soil and put in some cactus and succulents.   Even though the plants were drought resistant, they eventually died during last-year's drought.   The dirt was also leaking out of the bottom of the plantar leaving a mess, and some of the wood was becoming unattached.  I cleaned out the box and put it next to the house by the garage door, out of the way.  I wasn't quite sure whether to give it to the scavengers or reuse it.  Through several weeks of rain and sunny days the plantar sat there unused, maybe being observed by passersby.  Then the other day, my husband saw an elderly woman come onto our driveway, pick up the rather bulky plantar box and carry it away.   I kind of chuckled to myself how funny that was.  I wanted to get rid of the box, but it had some sentimental value attached to it.  I guess the muses took care of decisions for me.

Anyway, I was still feeling a little dismayed as I crossed the street to my avenue.  There at the corner
was an older gentleman, hunched over his rose bushes, turning the soil and cleaning away the dead leaves and weeds.  I almost walked by, but then I decided to talk to him-- after all he is my neighbor.
I asked him how he prevented the little worms that eat my rose bush from eating his plants.  Well, he gave me very good advice.  He said he doesn't use any insecticides since they are harmful to life and animals.  He said he merely keeps his rose bushes clean and turns the soil frequently.  I imagine he keeps them watered also.  He also explained that he was 83 years old and is very healthy.  He takes care of himself the same as his rose bushes.  After his little talk, I said "Thank-you for the advice," and smiled as I walked back home.  Despite the dreary day and rather unattractive sights in my neighborhood, I found something to make me smile--neighborliness and sharing.

Fearful reactions

The other evening, after the morning's news of attacks at the Brussels  Airport and the subway station, I was sitting in our spacious, concrete, modern parish church for choir practice.  No one even discussed or mentioned the terrorist attacks, but got down to the business of singing.  In the middle of a hymn, my fellow-chorister suddenly seemed alarmed and hyper-vigilant, jumped up and whispered something to our new director.  He looked around, and then I saw a figure in the back of the church walking around, apparently looking around for something.  He was a nicely-dressed, dark-complexioned man with a beard, dressed in a suit.  He had apparently come in the unlocked main door, and then momentarily left by another door, returning a few minutes later through the same door.  He then disappeared behind a pillar from our view, near the votive candles.  My neighbor-singer said, "how did he get in here?  No one ever visits at this time of the evening." The man left peacefully without incident, and then one of us ran to lock the door.   I kind of thought to myself, "What has happened to us that we react so fearfully after all these news reports.

The same fearful reaction happened to me while I was traveling by rail in Spain after the attack on a commuter train  A passenger across from me left his seat for the snack bar, securing his place with his back-pack.  Since we have been repeatedly warned to notice unattended bags,  I immediately became alarmed thinking there was a bomb in the sack.  I felt frozen, but the man returned without incident.

Another time, I was returning home on an over-booked flight and my seat was separated from my traveling companion.  I sat at the back of the plane next to a window by myself.  Soon other passengers arrived sitting next to me.  The two were dark-complexioned young men who I immediately thought could be from somewhere in the middle-east.  I became frightened and kept staring out the window watching my baggage being loaded and wondering what I should do.  I felt so biased and confused as to why I was suspicious that they were terrorists even though we had all been thru the screening process.   Finally, I decided the best thing to do would be to engage them in a conversation--find out who they were.  I started talking about my baggage and the young man next to be starting talking.  I found out that he was a well-educated, courteous student of Indian descent. .  I then felt less fearful and relaxed for the rest of the flight.

When I saw the news-clippings the other day, I wondered why no one had noticed the two suicide-bombers walking rapidly, pushing carts with one glove on their left hand.  Did they blend in?  Were people too busy with their own problems.  I know we have been told to be observant and vigilant about those around us in crowded circumstances.  The Airport gives repeated announcements about watching your luggage and noticing any bags left behind, but it is so easy to miss the obvious.

Well, I don't have many answers to all my questions about this fear-mongering society.  I look out the window and see a beautiful, sunny day with birds flying, and the ocean roaring.   I think we need to be mindful of what we are thinking and be curious about our surroundings,  On my email I often get articles from people admonishing us to pray and be fearful of some event.   When I do my homework and look into the reports, I usually discover that there has been an incident but that it was blown out of proportion.  So I know not to take what people say, especially on the internet, as concrete evidence  Yes, let's be vigilant, watchful, curious, but we need to temper our fears with knowledge and insight.  We need to know our neighbors, be friendly and inclusive, and realize when we make judgments  without finding the truth.

P.S. I am learning a lot about observing from my "Maisey Dobbs mysteries."

A Beautiful Winter Day in the City

A beautiful day it was in my fair city.  After weeks of much-needed rain and dark, cold days, the sun came out behind the clouds prompting me to take a walk in the "hood."  For a long time, it  seems that the streets around my house have been empty, except for the swishing of passing cars and the occasional ambulance or fire engine careening by with sirens blaring.  I did get out of the house in the car, but I never notice much in my car.  Walking provides a different insight and closer contact with people and places.  Today was such a day.

As I left the house, my block was empty, except for a tall, lean man wearing a black t-shirt and sprouting dread locks walking very rapidly towards me.  I watched him curiously on the corner til he passed by and then I crossed to the sunny side of the street and headed to the next block.  When I reached Noriega, a very busy street, I had to wait while cars and a bus went through the intersection, since I don't like to walk out in front of cars expecting them to stop for me.  Then I walked leisurely down 43rd Avenue.  I noticed the house on the corner was almost finished it's renovation after being covered for a few months.  It had new windows and new tar-paper covered with wire mesh awaiting stucco., I supposed. Then I wondered what my house was like under the stucco--was it full of dry rot or mold?

I continued along looking at the gardens which were full of weeds and sprouting Oxalis--the bane of the neighborhood.  The side-walks are all cracked in places and ugly telephone and other electronic wires form a canopy over the streets.  My neighborhood seems shoddy at times.  Then awakening me from my reverie, a man in a 49er's SuperBowl t-shirt, who was stuffing his dog into his little car, smiled and said hello to me.  That felt very neighborly.  At last I reached the coffee shop on the corner of 43rd and Lawton.  It is a fairly new establishment and seems to be doing very well.  I always see long lines of people waiting patiently for the cup of java and today was no exception.  In front of the shop were a group of young women with small babies dangling out of front packs strapped in front of them.   The women were all chatting happily waiting to order.  After I said they look like a mother/baby group, they responded that they had been taking yoga lessons with the babies at a place on Irving.  After a short wait, it was my turn to order my coffee and a scone.  The lady at the cash register was very friendly and helpful and when I asked when there was a quiet time at the coffee shop, she said that it doesn't happen very often, as I suspected.  I ate my feta cheese/ squash pastry out side with my medium cappuccino with the perfect tree design on top.  It was delicious.  As I started to leave I noticed another group of people accumulating around the corner--people with a variety of big and little pooches out for a walk.  It was very reassuring to see my neighborhood blooming with lots of folks talking and enjoying the day outdoors.

I continued up Lawton Street towards the school my kids used to attend.  It was quiet there, and I noticed changes.  There were pontoons lined up along the yard where parents could drive up to pick up their students.  In my day and also when my children went to school, the kids poured out of the school to walk home.  Now there are lots of parents picking up their children not only at Holy Name but at all the schools in the area.  Is it because the families live far from the schools, or is it because parents are afraid their children will be hurt or kidnapped.  Or maybe we have just become dependent on our automobiles.

On 39th Avenue I turned to the right toward the library.  On the way I saw lots of donations in bags and boxes sitting out on the curbs in front of houses.  It was a pickup day for UCP and there across the street was a man throwing items in the back of a brim-filled delivery truck.  I kind of gasped thinking the donations were being squished.  It also struck me how much junk we seem to accumulate, but it is a good idea to give our unused items to others when we are finished with them.

My next stop was the library where I found a great book on the history of Greek mythology.  I have been going to some lectures on Mothers in Greek mythology and the subject piqued my curiousiy.  I wanted to find out how and where myths started.  Apparently they start with oral tradition and are written down much later, like by Homer.  I didn't want to get yet another book at home, so I just relaxed and read a bit there until I felt sleepy.  Then I walked down the hill back home--the walk was only 1 1/2 miles but I felt good to be outdoors.  I need to explore more of my "Parkside Dunes" neighborhood and beyond.