2013-02-23 Sat

Retired

I still have appointments - medical, friends, things to pick up - and shopping to do, but life is not so ordered to the clock. I find myself strolling (rather than walking) around the downtown core.

Walking is difficult in the heart of a large city. Bunches of people impede progress at any regular speed, crossing lights and delivery trucks make a hash of a non-stop burst. The only way to accomplish a brisk non-stop walk is to find a large park and circumperambulate it, or to hop on public transit and walk a network of suburban housing streets, but that's not as interesting as the downtown core back streets with their specialty shops.

So what can I do about all the people?

I've decided that I can be of service to some of them.

I stroll 650 metres to Ryerson University each morning and collect two free copies of The Toronto Star; one for my building's common room, one for me. I stroll 650 metres home. That's not much, but it does get air into my lungs, and it establishes for the day that I've not been holed up in my apartment.

A primary goal of my day is to establish contact, however brief, with at least one complete stranger every day.

It must be a complete stranger, so that after a few weeks the cashiers in the supermarket are eliminated, as is the free-paper man on the street corner.

But the downtown core is busy, so it's a simple matter, most times, of making a flattering compliment, and I'll do it as the young lady in the coat walks past me; opportunity allows me to call out "What a lovely coat", or to the lady pushing a stroller-strapped toddler "That's a cute hat". Sometimes a dog-walker approaches me with a tail-wagging Labrador. "Are we friendly?" I ask, and the assertive nod lets me squat down and offer my hand.

These contacts are minimal, yet I find myself wondering what the city would be like if each person made a commitment to establish friendly contact, however brief, with at least one complete stranger every day.

The compliment, by the way, doesn't need to be honest, but it must be realistic. I've found myself in an elevator car with a man wearing the same shade of purple shirt as mine. "Nice shirt!" is enough to bring a pleasant acknowledgement from the man, followed by a few seconds reflection then a burst of laughter and a huge smile. The whole elevator car cracks up at that point. Mission Accomplished!