Sustainer

1:30 p.m. Monday, January 16, 2017, Martin Luther King Jr. Day

I have the day off from work and am just poking around the apartment, mostly grazing and watching old Westerns on MeTV. The Big Valley (with Lee Majors) just got over. Up next is Gunsmoke. I must be on a Western kick; last night I watched The Magnificent 7—the new one, starring Denzel Washington. My favorite aspect of Westerns: no matter how flawed the character, an innate sense of justice always surfaces as their guiding principle.

My blinds are drawn against the midday Sun, which is out in full force, a rare sight these days with the stretch of weather we’ve had around here lately. It has been effin’ rigid, that’s to say it’s been f-f-f-frigid. Three days ago, the high was 17 below zero. As of this moment, we’re sitting at 18 above.

From the comfort of my home office, I scroll through Facebook. I share a pic of MLK with a quote: “We need leaders not in love with money but in love with justice. Not in love with publicity but in love with humanity.” I share another pic of him—one in which he is smiling, which, it seems to me, are too few and far between. I “like” an image of a Hobbit home with a quote from Gandalf: “It is the small everyday deeds of ordinary folk that keep the darkness at bay. Small acts of kindness and love.”

I step outside for a smoke. It’s kind of a mess. Someone has strewn blueberries about the landing. The snow in front of the door is spotted dark yellow with dog urine. (Instead of walking his dog, my neighbor prefers to hold the leash from the warm side of the door.) Next to the building, a stranger’s cigarette butts and my own well-worn footprints surrounded by ashes stand out in stark contrast to the sunny, white, untouched snow. This is a shared space. Not picking up after oneself is inconsiderate. I decide to change it up and take my smoke down the street.

It’s been days since my path has crossed with any of my neighbors. Given the recent conditions it is no wonder. But two houses down I hear crunching footsteps. I look. It’s a man! Another human being! Dressed in black from head to toe, he is smoking too. He brings his hand up in greeting. I return the gesture. I take a few steps then, with palms up, as if presenting our environment, remark in a tone of pleasant surprise, “It’s pretty nice out here now!” “Yessir,” he smiles, “I’s startin’ to wonder if I’s gonna freeze my black skin right off!”

A few more steps and I notice a small, flesh-colored container in the driveway. It’s slightly open. Someone’s dentures are inside. Winter’s lost its bite? As I pick it up, a pickup truck pulls into the driveway. I lift the denture case to show the driver then walk up to his window.

“I just found this right here.”

“Hmm, I dunno,” he says. “Teeth, huh?”

I nod.

“Actually, they might be my sister’s.”

I motion them in his direction.

“Uh, why don’t you just put ‘em next to that tree right there, where I can find ‘em later.”

A couple houses down, I turn around and head back. Another pickup pulls up and parks in front of the denture tree. A dream catcher hangs from its rearview mirror. A big guy with long black hair gets out. We meet in the driveway. I yield. He’s in a sunny mood. He asks how I am and tells me to enjoy the rest of my day.

When I get back to my building’s parking lot I put my butt in my car’s ashtray. At the end of the lot I notice two sanitation workers in a garbage truck. (Isn’t it a holiday?) They are working hard to pick up the snow-covered sofas hiding behind the dumpster. The sofas were keeping someone from using their garage. But now, thanks to the sanitation workers, the path is clear again.