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I
didn’t try too hard to figure out the meaning and outcome of their
efforts. From the placement of the stakes, I imagined that they were
planning to put new sidewalks along that side of the street or perhaps
planning for a new gas or water pipeline. I didn’t realize at the
time that their efforts would be life changing. Several weeks later,
the big changes began.
On
my way to work one morning, I was greeted by signs that abruptly
stopped and rerouted me, saying, "Road Closed" and "No
thru traffic." For a few moments I was completely at a loss.
"No thru traffic" was meant for me. I wasn’t going to be
able to take my familiar route to work — something I depended on as
part of my normal morning ritual. My now-closed route had safely and
quickly transported me past all the same familiar, comforting sights
for 10 years. I felt somewhat unraveled.
I
drove up to the "Road Closed" sign to look beyond it, hoping
that it was merely a precursor to a future road closing and would
allow me safe and speedy passage at least today, but I found no
passage and no comfort. At the other end a large digging machine of
some sort worked at prying up large chunks of pavement and dumped them
unceremoniously into large dump trucks that waited patiently in a
line.
I
felt as though I was facing a minor emergency. I had to make a choice
that I wasn’t very prepared to make at that time in the morning. I
could either reroute to the other major thoroughfare or I could
<choke> drive through the neighborhoods. The major thoroughfare
was largely out of my way but speedier than driving through the narrow
streets of the neighborhoods. On the other hand, driving through the
neighborhoods was indeed the more direct route, but would be slower,
and there were many, many turns. Either route would convey me past
unfamiliar sights and make me make decisions that would challenge me
at a time of the day that I seek absolute peace rather than
challenges.
At
the last moment I decided to drive through the neighborhoods. I don’t
really know how I arrived at that decision but remember being
surprised at how anal I had become. The direct-route efficiency of the
driving through the neighborhoods had won me over.
And
so I made the first turn into the subdivision reluctantly and found I
could safely drive at about 18 miles an hour. The roads were well
maintained but lumpy, and it was the lumpiness and the mental threat I
felt of young children playing along the road edges that kept me going
slow. I truly believe that keeping to the speed limit on the roads
along which people live is a matter of safety and respect, and so I
tried very hard to watch my speed.
(To top of second
column)
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As
I was driving along slowly, I noticed that people were out in their
yards and on the sidewalks and taking walks along the streets that I
was driving on. I seldom saw people out on the major thoroughfare that
I regularly took. Perhaps the major-thoroughfare people were
accustomed to increased traffic and were avoiding being seen or being
run over. I felt surprised at how many people were out and about. I
was very unaccustomed to seeing people at that time of the day.
And
then it happened. One of those people noticed me driving slowly along
their streets and waved and smiled at me. I couldn’t remember ever
being waved at on my way to work, let alone a smile in the morning. It
was an odd, foreign feeling to begin with, and then I shrugged it off
as merely a happenstance. And then it happened again as a group of
children on bicycles waved and smiled. And then a young woman pushing
a baby carriage. I no longer felt that I could dismiss their waving
friendliness as an oddity. This must be the way people behaved in
neighborhoods.
Their
waving, smiling friendliness had a profound effect on me. I had been
so accustomed for so long to my uneventful, semi-comatose ride to
work. Suddenly I was greeted by people acting friendly and kind to me.
I was so moved that I decided to wave and smile back. And then I waved
to the next group of people along the way, and they waved and smiled
back. I decided that waving and smiling was contagious.
Not
only was it contagious, but it seemed to help me to feel as though I
was not all alone against the world. In fact, a part of the world was
in the daily struggle alongside me, waving and smiling.
I
have taken that route to work now for about four weeks. Each day I
wave and smile, and now I wave and smile to people who drive down my
road past my house. I wave and smile at people who pass me on the road
while I am behind the wheel. In fact, I think I am more friendly now
at all times. Just that small act of friendliness and kindness that I
encountered because my road was closed transformed my life in a
significant way.
I
think I will continue to wave and smile long after my road is
reopened. Maybe you’ll wave and smile back.
[Jim
Youngquist]
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