Trying to beat the impending snow, I headed out for my daily walk earlier than usual, as cars and school busses made their own morning treks. Bundled up like the Unabomber, constantly blowing my ever-running nose, eyes trained down on a sidewalk I can barely see, I found myself at the intersection near our elementary school. As I approached, I recognized the figure of the crossing guard who has stood sentry there for over twenty years. I reached a gloved hand into my tied hoodie hood and removed an ear pad to say hello.
“Good morning”, he said, and I replied in kind, keeping my pace. “You’re a diehard”, he observed, as the weather conditions deteriorated by the minute. “You’re one to talk”, I laughed. “I’m just trying to get it done.” I wished him a good day, replaced my headphone and continued on, thinking about him. For many years on my way to work I drove by him at his post and in the interest of full disclosure, on several occasions he signaled for me to slow down, even though I was not breaking any laws or putting any child at risk. Annoyed by his actions at the time, I assured myself his position had gone to his head. But there he is, still after all this time, in every kind of temperature and precipitation, keeping my neighbor’s children safe. It was miserable out in the elements and this was one day for me compared to thousands for him. No longer in my warm car with the delicious fragrance of hot, fresh coffee coming from my cup holder, my perspective was a whole lot different. The next time our paths cross, I’ll be the one making the gesture: a handshake.
