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Mind you, I'm not saying I expected him to stop and order us back inside, let alone arrest us, but it did remind me of this spooky Bradbury tale. There were fewer runners and walkers out than even on a typical Spring day. Then, yesterday, it seems like the numbers dropped and we shifted to lock down mode. On Wednesday there were tons of little kids on the playground, riding bikes, etc. For a few days the number of folks you'd see out swelled-the combination of nice weather (40s in NH in March) and boredom driving them outside. Then we go around Occam Pond, past the elementary school, and down a long residential road, all of which are popular running routes. Typically, students who miss their own dogs like to say hi to the puppy, but even those you do see just hurry past. Students were told not to come back from Spring Break and professors and staff told to work from home. For one thing, when we do the longer walk we go across the Dartmouth campus, which is now nearly devoid of people. Amid it all, the one thing that never changes is that I take our two dogs-a twelve year old labradoodle and a one year old sheepadoodle (apparently the former wasn't degrading enough)-for a five to 9 mile walk every day.ĭespite our regularity, this has gotten odd too. Now the past few days there are governors ordering entire states quarantined and today comes word that Donald is considering a national lockdown and business closure. I got to Logan in an hour and forty five minutes and you could race through Boston, there was so little traffic. When the Daughter flew home from her internship in DC she was going to be the only passenger on her first flight, so they bumped her to one where she was with ten people. The two younger kids did have school canceled, but supposedly the High School will start tele-learning on Monday. The Wife and I are both still working at least, though my staff has been cut in half and our delivery stops drop every day.
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Up to now, we've not been greatly disrupted personally. I'm writing this in the midst of the Trump-Xi flu pandemic of 2020, just as things have started to get truly weird. Ray Bradbury, the Pedestrian (John Wilson, 7. “Through these experiences,” Eller writes, in his charmingly orotund style, “he had come to see the pedestrian as a threshold or indicator species among urban dwellers-if the rights of the pedestrian were threatened, this would represent an early indicator that basic freedoms would soon be at risk.” Keller, “The Revolt of the Pedestrians,” published in 1928, but was triggered by two incidents over a span of years in which, while walking late at night with a friend in Los Angeles (with one friend in Pershing Square in 1940 with another on Wilshire Boulevard in 1949), Bradbury was hassled by the LAPD. Pockets, through the silences, that was what Mr.Įller says the story was inspired in part by a very odd story by one David H. Step over grassy seams and make your way, hands in To put your feet upon that buckling concrete walk, to To enter out into that silence that was theĬity at eight o'clock of a misty evening in November,