it’s like a heat wave

This is a true story.

Sunday afternoon, my landlords off to the coast, I came up out of the chilly basement into the serious heat, and turned right – I couldn’t tell you why – instead of my plan to walk left through the tunneled shade of the huge sidewalk trees.

Ten blocks down Tillamook Street I saw a man attaching a paper sign to a flowered-fabric low-to-the-ground chair. There was a more beat-up blue chair off to the right. I walked over and asked if they were free and the man, maybe 50, said yes and I should try the blue rocker, I wouldn’t believe how comfortable it was. So I did and it was – the chair had me at hello – and I said, bummer, it won’t fit in my car and he smiled and said, “It will fit in mine.” He also said the chair had belonged in his family for 60 years, and inside his house was a picture of his wife when she was five sitting in the blue rocker with her seven-year-old sister.

“Finish your walk,” he said, “come back and knock on the door and we’ll bring it over the 10 blocks to you.” Which I did and we did and he – his name’s Jeff – helped me carry it into the basement, where it is just over there as I type this.

See. Kindness and compassion out to play on a hot Irvington Sunday.