Against my better judgment, I decided to walk from Union Station to my office yesterday. It was my first day back to work after three weeks.
Walking is still goddamn-fuck-hell hurty for me but I need need needed to be out walking in my city rather than taking a cab as planned.
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Have I mentioned I look down when I walk?
Never used to do it. I always walked head up and high, looking at stuff and enjoying the world.
But after falling so many times over the past couple years, I’ve gotta keep an eye out for treacherous terrain.
That’s mostly why I noticed the car keys.
I had just crossed Adams when I saw them sitting on the sidewalk near the bike rack. The man ahead of me saw them, too. I could tell by how he hesitated stepping over them.
I almost did the same thing.
But then my mantra for 2007 popped into my head. So I turned around and picked them up.
“What the hell do I do now?” I thought, looking around for I don’t know what.
I’m in the middle of the third largest city in the United States. It’s not as if there’s a Lost and Found on every corner.
I look down at the key ring – a remote lock thingy with the “Panic” button jumping out at me. Just one key.
Volkswagon, prolly, I think.
Someone won’t be able to get home tonight without these.
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A personal ad?
“Found keys at Adams opposite Union. Call to identify.”
Right. They’re car keys. It’s not as if they have any identifying marks on them. And which paper? Trib? Sun-Times? This person needs these keys tonight, not three days from now if and when they happen to check the personals.
The police?
“Let me get this straight. You’re calling the Chicago Police Department to report that you FOUND some KEYS? Have you heard the news? The murder rate went up in 2006. We’re a little busy over here.”
CLICK
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Still in What The Hell Do I Do Now mode, I see a frantic looking woman stop the man who walked right over the keys (oh the irony) and ask him something.
He turns around and points back towards me. I hold up her keys.
She comes rushing over to me – breathless and relieved and smiling.
“I just realized there’s a hole in my pocket,” she said. “Thank you. Thank you for picking them up.”
It’s silly, because all I did was pick them up.
Still - hours later - I have absolutely no clue what I would've done with those keys.
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I’m not telling you this story so that you can say “Yay, Hedy! Way to go with that Making a Difference shit!”
No.
I just wanted to point out that there are opportunities to make a difference all around us every day.
Looking down helps.
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I am listening to: Yappy women on the train
I am reading: The Audacity of Hope by Barack Obama
And I am: Goddamn hurty ass shit hell fuck
2 months ago
1 comments:
I'm glad to see you are back posting. I missed your writing over the holidays.
Since you have comment moderation, I thought I'd let you know that your full name appears as part of Technorati's information about blogs that link to mine. With the world as it is, how's that for a vacuous phrase, you might not want identifying info out there.
Regards,
Dave
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