Clean Sidewalk

 Last Tuesday we got another two or three inches of snow. After dusk I walked to the post office, enjoying the crunch of the snow beneath my boots and the near-empty streets. After posting my package, I took the circuitous route home down Winthrop St. Ahead of me I saw a neatly cleaned stretch of sidewalk and heard the scrape of a snow shovel. A middle-aged man with his back to the street was shoveling his front porch steps. I thought I’d pass by silently: somehow the pandemic has made me shy of people, but decided to take the chance to have a connection. “Nice sidewalk” I shouted. “You are welcome!” he called back. The simple exchange warmed me as much as the aerobics of trudging through the snow.

Half a mile later, I saw a man and a dog at the bottom of Belfry Hill. After I had passed, I heard the dog rushing up behind me. As it hit my knees, I screamed, but kept my balance. The man yelled at the dog and the dog retreated. “Sorry!” called the man. I thought about calling out angrily: the dog had really frightened me and in that situation it’s no good the dog owner saying, “He’s harmless.” If he were so harmless, he wouldn’t have chased me.

But I just walked on. That was as charitable as I could manage. I didn’t feel like calling out, “That’s okay,” or “No harm done,” or “I’m sure he meant well.” But I could manage not criticizing the man. There are leash laws in Lexington: the dog should have been leashed.

I had a vague idea that Lexington has a ‘leash law,’ so I Googled it:

No dog owned or kept in this Town shall be allowed to be off the premises of its owner or keeper except in the immediate restraint and control of some person by means of a leash or by effective command. The owner or keeper of any such dog that is not restrained or controlled off the premises of its owner or keeper shall be punishable by a fine of up to $50 or the maximum permitted by Section 173A of Chapter 140 of the General Laws, whichever is higher.

I suppose the man thought his dog was restrained by effective command, but, in my book, any dog who rams into the back of my legs is not effectively controlled.

If I were more charitable, perhaps I would have turned and smiled, said good doggy or the like. But at least I didn’t lash out. He probably didn’t expect any pedestrians on a snowy evening: there were no other pedestrians and hardly any cars out even.

Sunday, Jim went with me to in-person sacrament meeting. Quick waving of the hands (I suppose we can see each other's smiles behind the masks) and a short conversation or two out in the parking lot. Not satisfying, but better than nothing.

Yesterday we called a house painter, Marcio of Souza Painting, for some house projects that have languished for years. We made a list and Marcio and I walked through the house and outside as I explained the jobs and he made comments and notes. After we were done, Jim came down and we chatted for a few minutes. After seeing our library, he told a funny story about his relationshiop to a very thick book a customer gave him. (He took it on a 9-hour flight back to Brazil, but it stayed in his bag.) Have you read every book? Well, maybe parts of most of them, between the two of us.

It felt so good to have a normal conversation with a great guy. (He refinished our deck and coach house stairs a few years ago and they still look great.) He cheerfully helped Jim carry an IKEA bookcase in a box up to David's room. We've calculated that we can keep buying books, at a moderate rate, for the rest of our lives if we purchase about three more bookcases. I told Marcio that owning books was a hobby: Some people collect sportscars; we own books.