Men are no longer trusted to admire beauty
Lost in thought again, I pace the humming street with my eyes down. They get into less trouble that way. If the pavements weren’t so cluttered with abandoned rented bicycles and e-scooters, I’d try walking backwards.
I am brooding over words I wrote several weeks ago when describing that species of social embarrassment called not knowing where to look when you pass a school playground of children. “It takes me a moment to remember,” I wrote, “that a man wandering on his own must no longer pause to look at children running races in their mirth.” I did not, I now think, adequately register the sadness of that loss. Scurry from a playground for fear of appearing sinister and we might as well be scurrying from the vitality of life itself.
Somewhat off topic – I used to have a daily morning walk that took me past a daycare, same time every day.
One day a young girl of maybe 3 or 4 standing away from the other children began calling out to me, calling me “Daddy.”
The first couple of times were amusing and I walked on without concern but she did not give up her efforts.
I began to worry I was traumatizing this poor child who daily mistook me for her father.
Worse yet I was a “Dad” who ignored her.
But I dared not stop to set her right knowing the mess that could be.
I changed my route.
