Walking Four Blocks in Your Shoes
Yesterday started with a text from Sandy: “No! J didn’t get his carts to your house, they’re at the Avalon, any chance you can get them over to your house? We have to get to Hooper.”
Of course I could. I cheered J on. Checking in for detox is a big deal and being ready and willing to take that step is massive. Today is a day to make sure J has no obstacles in his way. I cheered Sandy on, who was waking extra early to drive into town, find and rouse J, and drive him to Hooper in time to make use of the referral into treatment. That’s a big deal and worthy of a story all it’s own. But my story is of the carts…
I am a relatively fit and healthy 38 year old man. I can move easily, all of my limbs work, I have no disabilities, and I have muscles enough to lift heavy loads. I also ate breakfast, had coffee, and sturdy warm gloves on. And yet, at 845, after getting the kids to school, I found myself standing next to two massively loaded shopping carts, well packed and covered in tarps. I decided to take the bigger one first.
It moved easily down Belmont and I knew it would be easy enough to get home. My mind began to wander, ‘could I ever shrink my possessions to fit on a shopping cart or two?’ ‘I wonder why that lady crossed the street in front of me’ ‘why won’t that guy make eye contact with me?’ As I walked the block to 34th and turned right, I realized I was being seen differently than I was used to. People saw the cart before me and I could feel it. Alas, I had to get the cart the other three blocks to my home. On the first curb-cut, I realized I was lucky that there was one. There is no way I could have lifted it down…but those little yellow bumps made it awkward and hard. I decided to walk it in the street rather than contest with pedestrians and curbs. The first car that came behind me was not full of patience. He honked at me, I moved to the other side of the street, he sped off shaking his head. I felt genuinely ashamed. I didn’t mean to make his day harder…I’m just trying to help a friend.
The next car that came was facing me. She slowed way down and moved over for me. I felt seen and safe and I waved. She put her head down and kept going. There is the slightest uphill from Belmont to Washington. So slight you can barely notice on a bike, but I could feel ever ounce of incline all the way up. By the time I neared Washington, I was sweating through my layers, though it was freezing outside and was out of breath. I changed positions of how I was pushing it and in that little adjustment—-catastrophe.
I felt a wheel go sideways, the cart started tipping, it was too much to brace against and it fell on its side with a loud crash. Dammit! I’m one block away with a well packed, but over packed shopping cart in the street on its side. I looked around. A neighbor who I don’t know was walking his dog. I read his body language as saying, ‘should i help this guy? ignore him? turn the other direction?’ I looked down at the cart (which had not spilled a single item, despite laying on its side) and back at the neighbor. I must have looked desperate but approachable. He offered help. “Oh thank you so much. I’m helping a friend and just need to get this to my house down there.” I could feel the dynamic shift immediately. Now we are two middle income residents helping. I was so grateful he was there. It took both of us all we had to hoist it back on its wheels. I freed the stuck one and continued home.
By the time I walked in the door—only four blocks from where I started—I was exhausted. Out of breath and sweaty, I needed a glass of water. My wife, slightly worried, asked what had happened. “Oh nothing. Just pushed J’s cart 4 blocks. It’s the hardest physical activity I’ve done in a long time.”
I know the saying is ‘walk a mile in another’s shoes’ but I only needed those four blocks to understand so much of J’s experience. I can never know his entire experience, but knowing the physical strength it takes to move his items means that every move needs to be thought out, planned. You have to know where the ramps and hills and curb-cuts are and aren’t. You have to start moving well before you want to be somewhere and you better not be planning on going far. You need calories because they will burn quickly. You need water to stave off dehydration. You need gloves when its cold out otherwise your hands will freeze to the cart.
I also felt the power of the gaze. I was walking in my own neighborhood, where I own a home and feel so safe and comfortable but I knew that people were not seeing me that way. They were reading me as a nusience or worthy of pity or an invisible source of noise…I quickly felt the same. I felt in the way, cold, tired, in need of help and ashamed. So a four block walk in empathy did me good yesterday morning. I’ve been feeling it in every interaction I’ve had since, where I feel committed to reaching my hand out and offering my name to others. I want to create a world where J and his friends feel just as welcomed and safe in this neighborhood as I do when I’m not pushing a cart. I think we have work to do; and I know we are up for it.