Observations From a Walk in Suburbia and My New Year's Resolution

When I was in high school a friend of mine wanted to do an ad campaign which would include a picture of the earth with New York City in the middle.  The caption would read, “I told you New York City was the center of the world!”  Sometimes in quiet moments, my mind has drifted back to her idea and tweaked it some to show that NYC is not the center, but Kansas City is.  I know it is inane but as I walk suburban sidewalks that were first cemented in the late 50’s, I can’t help but feel that way.

It is a few days after Christmas and I have started my New Year’s resolution early – I want to lose weight.  Specifically lose weight by walking, something I was able to accomplish fairly well some years ago.  It does take determination and a type of multi-month commitment to live as if I am hypnotized because I do it every day and if fate requires me to skip a day, I make it up the next.  Further, I increase my distance a half mile each week.

Will this year be different from last?  I don’t know.  Much depends on me and elements outside my control.  So here’s looking at me; day two and combined with yesterday’s walk six miles.  I may not be, in the words of Leonardo DeCaprio, “King of the World!” but I am “Queen of the Shire!”

None of what I have previously written is exceptional in spirit.  I am sure all of us would be far wealthier if we had the clichéd nickel for the many people who confess a resolution to start the New Year losing poundage (which tends to falter on the first day of January when we nurse hurting heads).  What I want to share with you are my adventures along my walk.  True, they are small, and perhaps less life threatening then a casual stroll amongst endangered animals in Africa, but still there is exotic life and much to be learned along the path.

It is trash day in the neighborhood and I have barely traveled a block and already have spotted all sorts of torn holiday paper and junked boxes decorated with Santa faces situated curbside.  In the other seasons of the year I spot such things as empty whiskey bottles (sometimes many week after week) and I can safely say that it is hard to judge whom of your neighbors are alcoholics by their lawn care.   I think how interesting it may be for people hundreds of years in the future to look at the abandoned clutter in our landfills and try to piece together what we living in the here and now were like.  I suppose they will get much of it wrong, just as we probably get wrong what the Romans, Egyptians, and Greeks were truly like day in and out.

If I was of a melancholy nature I might get depressed by the numerous piles of glittery garbage, but I am blessed with a happy disposition and look at the patterned papers and think how pretty the wrappings were this year.  All bright colors, just how I want spring bouquets to be.  I do frown upon the gift sacks stranded amongst the curb because those can be recycled…yet, I do concede that the ones selected for trash haul are not very inspired in their design.  Sometimes you just have to thin the herd when it comes to gift bags.

Then there are the blow-up Christmas decorations that have been popular for about three years now.  At first, they were quite the novelty when they debuted in stores like Sam’s and Costco, but now everyone is on to their game.  They stand up proud and strong indoors, but outdoors, where temperatures vary, they become weak and falter thus crumbling to the ground.  In my head, I make up a story about how the snowmen and reindeer have mutually agreed that Christmas is not what it once was and act out a suicide pact.  I know it is horrible of me, but listen, I frame the story as if it is the Romeo and Juliet of holiday parables – a sort of Santa versus Baby Jesus.  Anyhow, I venture that by next year there will be fewer of the displays and then fewer still the next.  I have heard children love them, but I imagine they are a pain to set up and we all know the result.  Twenty years from now they will be a hot ticket item on ebay.

I notice that the icicle lights are varying in colors this season, thank God.  A few years ago it seemed like everyone put them up and I felt I was living in white light icicle land.  The good thing I can say about these lights is that people tend to take them down as opposed to single string lights where I have seen kept up year round.  Truthfully I am amused by the people, who for reasons I can only speculate, that keep lighting their Christmas lights every night until sometimes after Easter.  It is as if the effort was so great in putting them up these people are determined to get their payoff - even if it takes them way out of season.  Ditto for the people with Christmas wreathes, although I tend to think they keep them up out of laziness and wanting others to view them as eccentric.

As I walk on, I notice the smell of laundry rinse as it is blown outdoors by a dryer.  It is one of my favorite smells and last about a house and a half.  I associate the smell with the truly simple joy of knowing you have the pick of your favorite shirts and most comfortable socks.  I say this not because I am an admirer of the small things in life (that I proudly am) but I say it with an awareness that there are many in the world who do not know this feeling and if it were possible to box it up and send via care package I would happily do it.

I have entered my favorite store, which despite my suspicions of it’s Wal-mart like sweat shop/employee/consumer practices, I still adore.  I call it the ‘Lobotomy’ because it is a craft store and often when I reenter it after an absence, I feel inspired creatively to the point of drooling (fugitively, not literally).  I love the women who work there, especially the ones who are friendly – I know some of them by name.  Because I visit often enough, even the shy ones recognize my face and give me a warm smile.

As I leave the store, I see one of those glamour grandmother types dressed up with a circle of rouge plucked on her cheeks which matches her lipstick.  She is being trailed by her husband all duded up in flannel.  If he was younger I would suspect he was trying to bring grunge back.  I love these sorts of couples and live in a place where they are quite common.  Women like her you see driving around in their larger than average cars with their heads topped with perfectly coiffed gray hair.  I also love how they make their ensembles, which they purchase at places like J.C. Penny’s and Sears, look as if it is a garment fit for royalty (because of course they are).

I head off to the Hallmark store and see that they have unwisely labeled some of their displays as being “NOT PART OF THE SALE” in big thick red ink.  Okay.  Honestly, what sort of book on business acumen are they following?  It feels as if they are yelling at me for questions I haven’t gotten around to asking.  Further, I wonder how they stay afloat with the Lobotomy sharing a parking lot, but stay afloat they do.  There must be more Precious Moments collectors then I originally thought possible.

I go to Starbucks and learn that they are out of Strawberries for Strawberry frappacinos.  That is it, my life is over!!!  Seriously, no strawberries?  The peppermint flavored frappacino must not be the hot ticket item they thought it would be.

As I sit vegging out with my compromised caramel frap and reading the once upon a time alternative paper of Kansas City (it is now owned by some conglomerate based in San Francisco - I’m not bitter, no not me) a woman spills her drink.  She must be a regular customer because she is on a first name basis with the coffee venders.  While she laments about wasted Kailua, it doesn’t take a long study of her to realize she isn’t kidding.  I turn away as she, her friend, and one of the guys from the back are cleaning up the mess to only turn toward her when I hear her thanking Batman for saving our city.  Huh?

Standing not far from me is a child dressed up as Batman.  It is a nifty superhero costume and I wonder if it was a Christmas present or maybe a belated Halloween gift.  I think it is awesome that his parents are letting him walk around in it.  The early morning Kailua fan continues to shake Batman’s hand and is searching for more to say.  Some people don’t know when to leave a party.  I can tell by his body language, the miniature crime crusader wants to get away but the Batmobile is nowhere in sight.  Odd, the inspirations for stories that just seem to fall into our laps.

The truth is that I don’t know if I will lose weight this year or what fate has in store for me.  I don’t know what the year will bring my family, my friends, my community, my country, or our world, but I do know that the one resolution I will keep is to appreciate the small things that drift within my personal radar and record them, if only in my mind, before they fade away.

Here is the great thing I think all humanity shares; we as individuals feel as if WE ARE the center of the world and it makes little difference if we are logical enough to know that there isn’t a center of the world.  There are miraculous things happening within earshot of where I write.  The extraordinary is happening right outside my door and it marries all the good and bad of what makes humans human.  There are zillion-zillion stories that are begging to be told and if you, or I, or someone who isn’t reading these words, don’t tell these tales they will be lost.  It is a fine thing to share our stories because they are prayers we create for our future so others will remember our past.  Our stories distinguish us from people who have nothing to say.  They give meaning to the scraps buried within landfills that are found in future archeological digs.  In the past, I have observed life is made-up of huge events, which are punctuated with delicate moments…this year I am resolved to observe, record, and share more of them.