The broom man
August 24, 2005
For a dozen years I have jogged or walked up and down south 22nd Street, communing with rabbits, squirrels, dogs, and our mutual Maker. I usually see a few humans, too, jogging, walking, biking, sitting on porches, or working in their yards. One of these nodding acquaintances is “the broom man.” He lives on the corner of 22nd and Washington, and I often see him puttering about in his yard. He is probably about my age, pleasant, stocky, bandy-legged, sandy-haired, always willing to pause in his exertions and exchange a word or two.
Lately, I have found him vigorously wielding a cane kitchen broom, well out in the street in front of his house, sweeping away at I know not what. Whether wielding a broom in the street or a rake in the yard, I know exactly what comes next. He will hold the broom out toward me and say, “Here. You do this for a while.” I protest that I don’t want to deprive him of his exercise, give him a farewell wave, and continue on.
I really ought to stop long enough to get acquainted, but maybe we are both better off knowing each other only in passing mode. But, then again, . . . .
Dave, never sure about these things
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[...] You remember a post about a year ago about the broom man? Since I walk past his front door often, and when the weather is good he is sometimes out sweeping his curb gutters, we always wave and he always holds out his broom and asks me to sweep for a while. [...]