On Wednesday mornings each week, I see my therapist. I like to go in person even though it’s a bit of a drive; his office is about 63rd and Oak, and my office is at the corner of 64th and NORTH Oak, so he’s literally the opposite end of the city from me. There’s something about being in the room for conversations like that, though. When I had my triple bypass surgery a year ago, I had to do therapy via ZOOM, and while still productive, it just didn’t feel the same. I digress.
This isn’t about being in therapy, but I have to set up the story and the background plays its part. Long about 6 months into my therapy journey, they started construction on 63rd street off 71 highway south, and a detour was put in place. The first time I drove out and encountered the detour, I didn’t care for the fact that it had me traveling even further south to get around construction, so I started exiting at Emmanual Cleaver Boulevard and take The Paseo out to 63rd and on across to Oak.
This isn’t about the route I drive to therapy. Then again, it absolutely is.
The first time I took this route, as I turned onto The Paseo (Honestly, could there be a cooler name for a city street anywhere?) from Cleaver, as you pass the next intersection to the right, are the University Meadows apartments. As I am driving past this first week, I notice an older gentleman, sweeping the curbside parking area. I didn’t really give it a second thought, honestly, at that time, because maybe there was broken glass and he was cleaning it up.
What was unusual was that the very next week, at five minutes until nine, there he was again…same jacket, same hat, sweeping up the road. This had me curious: why? I mean, honestly, I can see someone being committed to keeping a parking lot or the street outside a home clean of litter and trash…but sweeping? I just could not wrap my head around the idea.
Week after week, as I drove to therapy, here was this man doing his job; me concocting ever more elaborate explanations as to why. Finally a few months in, I mentioned it to my therapist Nick. See, something about me that I don’t necessarily think is unique to my personality but definitely something I find quirky about myself is that I feel these unusual connections and wonder about things that I will never have any answer to. I remember watching the intro credits of Hill Street Blues when I was a kid, that haunting theme song playing in the background, and watching traffic on what I suppose was the highway in New York City, and locking onto one of those cars in that opening credit traffic and wondering whatever happened to the person driving that car…what their story was, where they were now . I get this feeling daily. It creeps up often when traveling. I’m constantly wondering about so many things in this universe that make me feel so small. Nick and I had discussed this at length in therapy before. And here I am, with this man in my life who I fully expect to be there every Wednesday morning around 9 am, just sweeping the street even though I have no idea why.
I toyed with the idea of stopping one morning, introducing myself, explaining to him that I watch him sweeping the street every week and wondered what it was all about. Asking him what his story is. Finding out more about this man who, if suddenly he wasn’t there one Wednesday morning, I would actually worry. Ultimately though, it’s like so many other things in life: the mystery, the not knowing, is such a big part of the allure of this non-relationship, that I find myself wanting to protect that part of it as well.
I don’t even know his name, and even knowing that much might damage this entire narrative in my head that I’ve drummed up. And of course the road has been repaired and reopened years ago, but I won’t change my route because I want the comfort of this familiar routine. I need to see him at work Wednesday mornings…
I know one day I’ll drive by and he won’t be there any longer. Or one day my routine will change. But for now…this is such an important few seconds of my week.
Charlie Sheen's Life Coach 