Hear Jim Reed’s Red Clay Diary podcast: https://youtu.be/sOxjLs3-0r8
or read the transcript below:
THE JOYS OF JAYWALKING
I’m dodging cars and dancing through traffic to get to the north side of University Boulevard.
Whoosh! There goes a red pickup truck, missing me by inches. I feel the warm draft of air rustling my jacket. I come to a halt on the center yellow line, awaiting the opportunity to race the rest of the way across the street. Two more vehicles and I am in the clear.
This is called jaywalking, and it is a tradition, a habit.
The time is 1970. I am young and foolish and full of energy. As opposed to right now, when I find myself not-so-young and just as foolish and minimally energetic.
Being youthful and unaware of consequences, I dash around the campus of the University, plying my trade each day. My job as a Mad Man is to run the school’s news bureau. That means holding press conferences, writing news stories, reducing my bosses’ diatribes to palatable statements, schmoozing the media and in general attempting to display the University in a positive light. Jaywalking is a way to save time and meet appointments. Travelling all the way to the corner and waiting for a favorable traffic light to send me on my way is just a waste of resources.
As years go by, I find myself continuing to be a poor man’s adventurer by jaywalking everywhere I go. I’m playing a video game without having to fret over the trappings of electronics.
As a young 1970′s dude, I also have a life beyond the University. At home I am the victim of fad and fashion. In addition to purchasing trendy ties and classy shoes, I also fall briefly under the spell of exercise promoters. I begin jogging, thus awakening each day with new sorenesses and nifty muscle pains.
Again, back to 1970, here I am another morning on the south side of eighth avenue south, getting ready to speed northward to the Veterans Hospital to interview a visiting scientist. The opportunity comes amid traffic and I begin running to cross before a looming Chevrolet runs me down.
Suddenly, I freeze in place right in the middle of traffic, unable to move. Leg cramps hold me stiff and sore. Traffic has to dodge and swirl about me as I limp to the center line to avoid sudden death.
For the first time in my life my body doesn’t obey my commands.
I finally hobble to safety, humbled by DNA and the physicality of life.
My jaywalking days will continue, but caution and fear will train me to take fewer risks.
Being of unsound mind and unpredictable body, I give up jogging. Ain’t worth the trouble, I tell myself.
Eventually, I abandon my Mad Man career out of sheer conscience, weary of trying to make iffy policies and procedures seem sterling, tired of spinning semi-truths, anxious to begin a new career over which I will have some control.
“The gunman was a loner who lived with his mother,” an oft-heard phrase employed by diffident reporters. I’d like to re-write this to read, “The jaywalker was a loner who lived with his wife.” The story might extend as, “He was known to keep to himself and read books whenever he could.”
I am preparing the news release now, at this moment. I might add, “The jaywalker emerged from his books now and then to mingle with family and friends and customers. Neighbors report that he seemed suspiciously drawn to writing stories and selling books, though no-one could say for sure what else he did in his private moments.”
Jaywalking, exercise-avoidance, doing bookie things like reading and writing…all seem to calm me down and give me purpose.
There could be worse ways to live a solitary life
© 2019 A.D. by Jim Reed