My head is gone. I’m not sure where it went. I hope it comes back someday. Maybe it’s the weather.
We’re trekking down to Ojai on Saturday. So today while the van was being shod with new brake pads I walked to the dollar store and bought the requisite distractions for the kids (note pads, activity books, etc.), and then walked to Walmart for the big-honkin’ bag of sunflower seeds (which magically render me ignorant of time so that the twelve hours feel like two).
And while I was walking down Susanville’s main strip, a busy, cluttered, concrete strip, I kept thinking back to Hong Kong, and how we walked at least five miles a day, even when it rained, and how we saw people when we walked. When you drive you see cars, but when you walk you see people.
I think it makes for a different kind of society when people walk and see each other. You’re more likely to smile and say hello, or feel wary when Big Scary Dude is too close behind you, or question your wardrobe choices when you pass a pair of fashionista teenagers. You can’t help but think about the people that make up your city, and who you are in relation to them. That doesn’t seem to happen when you’re insulated by a Chevy Astro. You’re not as vulnerable, and not as involved.
One night, Jason and I were out late in a new (to us) neighborhood in Kowloon. We were standing at an intersection with a throng of club hoppers and vendors and professionals on their way home. A man rode his motorcycle into the intersection, too fast, tried to make a right turn, and skidded sideways into the middle of the street. Immediately he was surrounded by fifty or sixty pedestrians, redirecting traffic, helping him up, dusting him off. He thanked everyone politely. Then he hopped on his bike and drove away. It was a beautiful moment. A few seconds later, a man in an expensive business suit started shouting, “My wallet! That guy took my wallet!”
See? Involved and vulnerable. Life is more interesting outside the car.
Kowloon
How it Fits 