Ah…why is it
that a newly recovered street looks so pretty?
I can’t stop opening my door or stop looking at that shining black surface
that is staring back at me. When the
light is right, first thing in the morning, it looks like it is wet from a
fresh rain. However, Suzy says that it
smells like horse pee…so not so sure that I like that aspect.
This week I
woke up, the morning when that great road fiascos started. We had received notice the day before of
which roads in our small housing complex would be affected that day. Not my street, according to my map, so my
cars could stay parked right where they were.
In the process of getting kids ready for school I heard the large
equipment roll in, sounding ever too close to our street to be where the map
showed, but oh well, big gear probably echoes making it sound closer than it
was, right? Not right. As I was walking the last child out the door
the street cleaner came by to ready our street.
Jenny hurried and moved the suburban up on the driveway for me and then
drove off in her little truck.
“What the
heck? Did I read the map wrong?” No, roads to be worked on were mapped out in
red and the street numbers written beside the map. Quick call to the project manager and sure
enough, a couple of the wrong maps for the next day’s project had gotten mixed
in with the right ones and I had been lucky enough to be given one of those. Great.
Now I was stuck with a suburban stuck in the driveway and not parked in
the graveyard for easy access later.
What to do, what to do.
Well right
about that time, Jason came home from an early doctor’s appointment he had that
morning, to say goodbye before he headed to work. He had parked his car a block away at the cemetery
and walked home. What did he do? Braved the street cleaning truck and the guys
getting ready to pour blacktop and took the suburban down to the cemetery for
me. Problem solved, with little effort
and here I had stressed over nothing.
Moral to the
story…not a whole lot, really, just another day. It’s what came later that was so
amazing. So small, yet so amazing.
I have been
watching a show on Netflix called Jericho.
It’s about the United States after coordinated terrorist attacks across
the country destroys major cities and knocks out power and contact to the rest of
the world. Not my favorite show but
interesting enough as I watch a small town have to come together even for the
simplest necessities of life. How does
this have anything to do with the road work that was going on in my neck of the
woods you ask. All of us on those few
blocks had to walk a block away to our cars where all of the neighborhood was
parked. I left my home several times
that day only to run into one neighbor or another along my way, and what did we
do? We stopped and chatted for a
minute. As I would drive away in my
suburban I would see others on their sidewalks or in the cemetery chatting
too. People were everywhere, not just in
their houses or in their cars but talking.
The next day
we had our roads back but the roads below us were in the same situation. The road for the bus stop was closed so the
kids were dropped several blocks away and had to walk up. So many parents, me included because I had to
get said kids off to piano lessons, were waiting for their kids to walk up the
street. So many people chatting and
waiting as a mass of kids walked up the streets.
In all of
this it kind of reminded me of the show Jericho, where the small community,
much like my own, had to be all connected, farmer and businessman, school
teacher and nurse, men, women, and children.
Kind of sent it all back to a simpler time when life was a little slower
and neighbors mattered.
As I walked
the kids home after one of our trips that first day, we walked slow and noticed
things and talked. I know it was only a
block but it was a lazy block and Sam and Steph talked about the school day,
and all the work and the chores and homework waiting for us back at the house
took the back burner for a moment, and I loved it. Those neighbors that I wave to but rarely
have time to talk to I got to say hello and hear a little about what was
happening in their lives and for a minute the world just slowed down a little
bit.
Jenny always
says how she wished that she had been born in the 1950’s and, well, for those
two days it felt a little like that. The
question is…how exactly do we keep that slow pace life and connecting with our
neighbors going? I doubt the city would
be too happy if we kept parking our cars down at the graveyard, but hey maybe
we just need to convince them to resurface our roads a little more often.