Take a little walk, and sometimes magic happens.

My walk today was one of necessity. I’m sick of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Eat enough of them and you may never be able to choke down another. The very thought can make you gag. Even finding maggots all over your dumpster bin won’t bother you. Ever. You’ll talk to those varmints: “Hi, guys, how y’all doin’?”

I had just enough for a pack of smokes, a small roll of braunschweiger, a small bag of store brand Columbian coffee, and a 1.25L bottle of Coke Zero (because I tried the store brand cola and it was revolting, almost as much as peanut butter and jelly sandwiches).

Now, look: I can’t walk far without stopping until the pain stops. I don’t use a walking app and I would really rather not use my legs at all, so if I ever get them cut off, I won’t complain.

That aside, I went inside the store after checking over my shoulder to see ominous clouds to the southwest. It would be just my kind of fate to get struck by lightning on my way back.

Obviously, that didn’t happen. Better luck next time, right?

Inside, I sought coffee first, because, damn the PB&J, coffee!

I found a bag of Colombian for five bucks off. Store brand of course, but that’s just Harris Teeter. But they have got the nerve to call it “HT Traders!”

Gimme a break, will ya?

What gall.

It’s Maxwell House in a different bag!

But five dollars off, I can’t really complain, can I?

Then I see a service man in uniform. He’s in fatigues, or battle dress uniform. I can’t tell which branch of service he’s in and I don’t know the unit emblem. But….

The U.S. flag patch was upside down!

For a millisecond, I wanted to say “thank you for your service,” but a thousand questions were stopping me. I’d have shaken his hand but I was afraid I’d hug him instead.

Alas. It don’t mean nothing. He can’t even be disciplined for it. But it was, fleetingly, a hopeful sign.

People in general were in a good mood. That’s always kinda nice, because it helps my depression ease up. The day was warm, at least ahead of a cool front inbound, and everyone needs it after the brutal winter we had.

Outside, I sipped on a Starbucks, sitting on a bench, and a teen girl saw carpenter bees, which come every spring to eat the benches (they don’t really eat wood, they drill into it to live and keep larvae). She actually reached for one, “Oh, I love honey bees!”

Those ain’t honey bees, kid, and reaching for it ain’t real smart. Carpenter bees are not really keen to sting people but they will respond to sudden, threatening movement. They, like bumble bees, rarely sting. Bumbles nest in the ground and you’re not vulnerable unless you pretty much step on one while barefoot. Which, of course, I have done.

The girl’s excitement was, however you think of it, refreshing to me. It’s rare considering how most teens are glued to their cell phones. Her father discouraged her, not because she got too close to the bee, but because she was too close to me.

While I appreciate any protective dad, I had the feeling that it was because I am an old white man. I’ve been seeing a major widening in the already dangerous rift between different races, which is obviously a device of the current government. Divide a country, then conquer it. This is from Hitler’s playbook, word for word. Which country did he and his Reich conquer first? If you said Poland, you’re wrong. It was Germany.

April 5th is a big protest day in the U.S. but I talked with someone earlier who said, “You won’t see any of my people there.”

Meaning black people. Her attitude was, “You people elected him, you people fix it.”

I said, “Then we’ve all lost. We’re divided. It’s over.”

Back to the dad.

A good dad protects. But protection has to be practical and without bias. I taught my kids to be cautious too. But when it came to race I had only the warning that bigotry is a trap. In particular I said, “I learned that being a racist deprived me of having lots of good friends. It also made me miserable.”

It took a long time before my son caught on, but near the end, when he visited, he had developed a solid friendship with my housemate, a black man, who is in the same program as I, and when my boy died, my friend grieved too.

After I restarted my walk home, I passed a day care school place, I’m not sure exactly what it is, but a dad with two small kids came out. The girl was so innocent and excited, her voice full of enthusiasm: “I got 60 Beaver Points, and nobody else has that many!”

Her daddy was one to make me proud: “Anna, that’s really great!” But then he let her continue, and that’s important. Let the wee ones talk. Especially if they’re doing well and are proud of it. I wasn’t allowed to show happiness or excitement. If I did, I’d end up with a severe lashing. In a way, I had to act like a Vulcan. This resulted in my turning into an asshole, taking out my rage on people in North Shore or at school. I was more or less an anarchist.

The dad said, very enthusiastically and voice displaying his love, “Anna, (not her real name) you have to tell me what you did to get all of those points!”

Now there’s a dad who genuinely loves and who will nurture his children and be a real dad, not just a father, as so many men are. It moved me to hear this exchange and the fact that he never lowered his voice, or told her to lower hers. I heard them behind me as I walked away.

Such things do my heart well. They’re magic. They give me hope, enough that I honestly believe we have a chance. Enough to think, “Hot damn, we might make it.”

The man in the wheelchair was black, much older than me. He asked me for a smoke while I was back on the bench that was being claimed by the Carpenters. Well, actually he asked if he could buy one. I never played that game. I know nobody should smoke, and myself least of all, but in my case, quitting will not stop or even slow my death. But I know the feeling of withdrawal, and withdrawal from nicotine is not a nice withdrawal. At all. I just gave him one and he thanked me and I said, “Glad I could help.”

I watched as a woman brought him two bags of groceries she’d checked out for him. Good people doing the best they could to help others. That’s what it’s all about. That’s what everything is all about.

All of this happened in about an hour. I’m sorry I can’t relate things better, but I fall short in many ways.

Such as, maybe my tallywhacker is a damn baguette.

Alas! The yeast has all gone.

That’s life.

As for those bees who want to steal my bench, I know what they’re thinking!https://youtu.be/__VQX2Xn7tI?si=acSFbdIG_LYFH6OC