Loose Ties

 

                I was cruising down Circle Blvd. today, contemplating how beautifully the road diet had calmed the traffic flow—we were all traveling at thirty miles per hour, instead of forty—when I spotted my neighbor’s jeep, hood up, in the exit ramp for the local shopping plaza. “What the heck?” I raised my arms at him. He laughed. I swung through the parking lot to check on him; I’ve been stranded in too many awkward spots myself to not stop. By the time I pulled up next to him, his friend had arrived to jump start him again. “We just need an elastic,” he told me. I handed over a hair tie and went on my way. 

                A few weeks ago, I called a physical therapist because my back/hip had seized up. I thought the name was familiar; I clearly recognized the voice. Do I know you? Yes. She had been before City Council numerous times a few years ago, raising clear, cogent concerns about the city and county response to homelessness. We didn’t always agree, but there was mutual respect. For the past month, she has been pealing way layers of adhesions and pinched nerves and veins, moving my pelvic ring back to health.

                And, on Friday night, Mark and I dined in at one of our favorite restaurants—Tarn Tip. We’ve had takeout regularly throughout the pandemic, but we have been patiently waiting to eat there once again. It has taken a long while for them to reopen because of staffing shortages. But, there we were: real plates, no plastic take out containers to add to the basement stash, hot eggplant and basil, rather than lukewarm…heaven. Our favorite waitress was there, looking a bit harried (it was busy!), but glad to see people enjoying their food and asking after their well being.  So good to see you, we agreed.

                Loose ties hold communities together. I have always known this but, post pandemic, we need to remember their power. Loose ties hold us together.