My mother has discovered The Power. The Power is a book promoting the Law of Attraction, a new spin on the old notion that ye reap what ye sow. In solidarity, I’m taking this message to the street.
I’m starting with drivers who almost hit me. Instead of my practiced, four-letter-laced outbursts, I now shout, “You missed me that time! Keep up the good work!” Having put aside vengeance, I choose to kill them with kindness.
In crosswalks, I preach positive phrasing. Crosswalks are so named because first I cross myself, then I walk. Up to 49% across, cars drive in front of me; 51% across, cars drive behind me. I become the urban toreador. “Good way to lose a cheek,” would have said Kevin, my high school friend who pre-dated The Power. “I’ve always wanted a Lexus, just not in my hip pocket,” would have said my father, on whom automobiles exerted Laws of Attraction.
When solo, I enter crosswalks waving my cane like a checkered flag while shouting “Your patience shall find reward!” With Randy, I grab the harness and pray that his status as guide dog will elicit respect. “Lookie here, dog lovers,” I holler. Then comes the rumble and hiss as two tons of metal cruises in for a closer look. “Mind his whiskers, please.”
Hey, I know urban driving is sensory overload. Drivers juggle lights, horns, sirens, busses, taxis, bicycles, walkers, texters, mascara and cell phones. But the law states that crosswalks must be cleared of pedestrians prior to motor vehicles entering that hallowed ground. I find adherence minimal and enforcement nonexistent.
Do you see the potential for improvement here? My mother’s life is richer, all ninety years of it. Her example inspires me. Instead of berating drivers for near hits, I now praise them for near misses. Through encouraging words shall my safety be ensured.