Extremes

Sometimes the extremes in this city make me do a double take.  The other evening in the Heather Garden the Pooch and I were lolligagging on the central path and enjoying the first cool evening since God knows when.  I gazed at the roses.  Pooch was doing what he always does:  looking for a spot that he hasn't yet peed on.  Along came a woman in noise canceling head phones.  She ploughed passed me at warp speed, so close that the current of her misdirected anger made my head spin. I was still recovering when, at the end of the path, she yelled over her shoulder, welcome to the public garden loser, you just ruined my evening!  I bent to scratch Pooch's head, which makes me feel better when faced with irrational behavior that's best forgotten.  A few nights later, I exited the subway at 190th St.  It was past 10PM.  Ahead of me an old man struggled to pull a rolling cart full of groceries up the stairs.  A woman rushed passed me.  She bent low over the cart and pulled up a bouquet of crimson flowers.  Having slipped to the bottom, the flowers had been sticking outside the cart and were unknowingly dragged halfway up the stairs by the man.  The woman had rescued them while still in good enough shape to brighten his life.   The woman took one end of the cart and helped the man to the top of the stairs.  My faith in the city renewed, I walked home through a pleasant summer evening, all the while keeping an eye out for skunks (see previous post, "Critters").