But I bring this up not because I fell recently, nor the fact I was at a party Friday where the owner of the house preferred dim lighting, but because someone said to me on the Metro, “Don’t walk with your head down, son... it doesn’t look good.”
I am 38, and the man may have been 206, I don’t care, I don’t like being addressed as “son” like some corny Foghorn Leghorn line. He was and old man, smiling that kind of grin that reminded me of grandfathers who give you backhanded complements, like, “If you used a better shave lotion, women might find you attractive.” I am amazed how many people give me personal comments on the Metro, do I wear a sign that says, “Please wipe your moist comments upon my back?” But I digress.
I smiled back, because I recall a line I was given a long time ago, I don’t remember where, which went like this:
“I used to look down when I walked, and all I saw were signs of despair: dirt and garbage. Then one day, I rose my head up high, and saw the signs of opportunity: birds, the sun, and the sky. And that’s when I walked right off the pier.”