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June 27, 2011 By Leave a Comment

The Patience of a 10 Year Old (Who Would’ve Thought??)

Dear Bicycle Girl, You can't be more than 10 years old. Yet your patience as my brother and I walked side by side taking up the entire sidewalk, oblivious to your presence, is something I could use more of. The icing on the cake was the polite
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June 27, 2011 By Leave a Comment

Lessons From Creeping a Crotch Rocket Poser

Dear Crotch Rocket Poser, Judging by the size of the trophy you were holding while posing and throwing up what looked to be gang signs in front of your canary yellow crotch rocket, you must have won some sort of big competition. As I watched the photographer snap shots of you and your prize from the 4th story window overlooking the abandoned parking lot you now occupied, I realized that you had no idea I was watching you. (I felt a little bit like a creeper but that didn't last long). I began to wonder how often people are watching us without our knowing. Probably more often than we'd like to know. What kind of message are we sending with our actions or with the overheard words we say? I cringe at the thought. PS - Contratulations on whatever contest you won. -Dave
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June 2, 2011 By Leave a Comment

Dammit! I wish I had a burrito.

Dear Brosef, As you roared passed me on your Harley, the only thought that went through my head was "Damn, I wish I had a burrito to throw out the window right now". My best friend Baxter (he's a dog) would be sitting on the seat beside me and I'd have an epic moustache that would make Tom Selleck jealous. I wondered if the situation would unfold like it did in the movies. Would I hit you with the burrito, knock you off your bike only to find out that you were Jack Black right before you punt Baxter off a bridge? Man! I wish had a burrito. Instead, I watched your tail lights fade as you sped into the night none the wiser. Me? I still have a huge smile on my face, still wishing I had a burrito. Here's the real crazy thing: you made my night. I'm in a better mood, and you have no clue that you played a huge role in that. How often do you think that happens? We honestly have no clue how our actions impact random observers. What would happen if we lived conscious of that? Would it change the way we act, behave or even treat people? I sure hope it will. -I'm Ron Burgundy?
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June 2, 2011 By Leave a Comment

The Moments We’ll Never Miss

Dear Door Holder, I appreciated your gesture; I really did. The few moments you took out of your day to wait for me to catch so I didn't have to open the door myself was not lost me. It was actually contagious as I the door for the next person. One thought did strike me as interesting though. Taking time out of our day and holding a door is something most of do as a gesture of goodwill, yet most of us are fully capable of opening doors ourselves. We do it because inherently, we want to help others and because it's convenient. But what would happen if we took those moments and helped someone with something they can't do for themselves? What if we even went out of our way? Maybe it's as easy as helping a single mom load her groceries while she takes care of her kids. Maybe it's more elaborate like cooking a meal once a week for someone who is unable. As I passed through the door you kindly held for me, I realized that you'd never miss those moments. You'll never ask for them back. How many moments do I have in a day that I can give? -Dave
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June 2, 2011 By Leave a Comment

The Deafening Sound Of Silence

Dear Silent Caretaker, Today I noticed you as I sat awkwardly by myself in the large cafe eating lunch. I said nothing as you simply acknowledged my presence while my eyes followed your every move. You diligently cleaned, washed and wiped the machines and surfaces I use everyday in your absense. Today, however, you were present. I felt like an intruder. An awkward, silent, unappreciative intruder. At least that's what I recognized today. Everyday your work goes unnoticed by me. Yet everyday I eat on clean tables, drink out of clean mugs and walk on clean floors. I was speechless; frozen with embarassment as my awkward silence became deafening. I wish I could take those moments back. I wish I said something, anything. I wish . . . . -Dave
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