Why Not Take the Sidewalk?
Auntie Mae's Various Ramblings on Life in a Small Town
Ida Mae Nowes
Nubbins Special Correspondent

Let me start off by saying "I'm still thinking about it." That's for those of you who are reading this column just to see what I decided about Merl's Marriage proposal last month.

I go along with the adage "What's urgent is rarely important, and what's important is rarely urgent." This decision is pretty important, so I won't be rushed, thank you very much. Check in with me next month.

No, today I want to discuss something really interesting: sidewalks.

If you are not lucky enough to live in an area where almost every street is outlined with a sidewalk, as I am in Nubbins, you may not understand why they are so fascinating. It's not so much the sidewalks themselves (although I have seen some pretty snazzy brickwork and paving in my time), but the world right above them. Let me give you an example:

This morning I needed to return some books to the library. It wasn't too hot yet, and it was only a couple of miles, so I decided to walk. Fortunately, I could do that completely via sidewalk.

The first thing I met on my stroll was my neighbor's yellow mutt Butterscotch, who came up to me for a scratch behind the ear. I knew for a fact that he was not supposed to be out of his pen, so after I petted him, I walked him home and locked him behind the gate. He wasn't too thrilled, but I knew my neighbor would be.

Next, I saw Martha Crabtree in her garden, which was as lush as an Amazon jungle. After I oohed over it a little bit, she gave me two zucchinis and a tomato, which pleased me. I put them in my bag, planning to have them for supper.

An unfamiliar bird twittered in a tree above my head, so I stood and watched it for a minute. That's when I was almost run over by Mr. O'Connor, who for some reason always walks through town backwards at quite a brisk pace, I might add. It might be some sort of exercise, or maybe that's just the way he likes to look at the world.

I also saw Moral Sneedly, though he wasn't on the sidewalk. Moral is mostly blind, so he gets around town by walking down the middle of the street, hunched over so he can follow the white lines and waving his cane in front of him. It's a miracle he's not been run over, and I'd feel better if he was wearing a day-glo vest, but you've got to hand it to the guy. At least he's not sitting at home twiddling his thumbs in the dark.

During that short walk to the library and back, I spoke with several other people, saw a chipmunk and a blue lizard, pocketed a North Dakota quarter, and found a folded-up note with these words written on it in orange ink: "Do you like me? IfYes, check this box. If No, check this one." Since neither box was checked I decided to keep it. It might help me think about what to do with Merl.

Do you see what I mean about the fascinating world of sidewalks? I can't understand why they're not required for every single street in the country. How hard could it be to slap one on every time a new road is installed or an old one repaired? It might just be the answer to a lot of our national problems: global warm ing, obesity, social anxiety, wars over foreign oil, stray dogs, violent video games. And drinking or texting while walking is much less dangerous than doing it while driving, unless maybe Mr. O'Connor is around.

Look at all the interesting things I saw today and all the unexpected gifts I received, just by taking the sidewalk. And I forgot to mention the best one. When I was almost home, I saw my young friend Johnny Mac walking the dog I rescued last month after it was hit by a car. I was pleased to see the brown and white pup looking quite chipper. In fact, it was barely limping.

"Hello, Johnny Mac," I said. "I'm glad to see our canine friend looking much better. Have you found the owner?"

"Not yet," he said with a grin. It's no secret that Johnny Mac has always wanted a dog. "Mama said it's actually a girl dog and not to get too attached to her, but I've already got a name picked out for her."

"Oh, really? What are you going to call her?"

He blushed a little. "Well, I was thinkin'. Since you saved her from almost certain death, I thought a good name for her would be `Mae,' ... after you."

I'm not ashamed to admit I beamed all the way home.



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