Your Tax Dollars at Work

Oh, to be a 4 year-old boy and home from school 

when all the action is happening in your very own front yard.  

That was the feeling when the city water crew arrived to repair the leaking water line coming into our water meter.  I was glad to see the crew getting ready to do their job, but I wished the event held the fascination it would have if we had a 4 or 5 year old in the house.  "Mom, can I go out and watch the workmen?"  "Only if you promise to stay on the front porch and not get in their way."  "I promise, I promise with a cherry on top!"  What bragging rights that would give a kid when he told all his neighborhood buddies, "I saw then digging up our front yard with big machines!"

Never-the-less, in the morning we heard the city trucks with their trailers hauling the excavating equipment pull up to our curb.  We hopped quickly into the shower before the water to the house was shut off, dried ourselves and dressed, and then stood in the front doorway to watch the men and their big yellow machines go to work.

There was probing the ground with a long steel rod to locate the problem pipe.  Another worker offloaded his concrete cutting saw on wheels while other crew members started the back hoe and had it idling in the street.  A good chunk of concrete was separated from the rest of the walkway by the saw and then the big machines moved in to pry up the large section of concrete sidewalk and then let it fall repeatedly, trying to get it to break into smaller pieces to be hauled off.  Still, somewhat exciting, even for a 55+ year old kid in the doorway.

We were off to our own appointed places of work as the city crew's repair work was winding down.  When I returned home in the evening, there was a big muddy spot where once the flooded sidewalk was.  A blue ribbon cordoned off the missing walk, presumably preventing any distracted joggers or walkers from falling into the mud pit of 3-4 inches deep and thence extracting a million dollars form our insurance company and/or the city.

A crew of concrete workers returned next week on the morning of Washington's birthday to set the forms and pour a new walkway.  When I came home in the evening, I did a bad thing (so unlike the (mostly) good kid I am); I etched a little message in the not yet dried cement to all who travel on foot and pass along the path in front of my house: 

Enjoy the Journey

No matter what path you may have chosen to travel down,

these chosen pathways often veer in unexpected directions 
or split into bewildering choices.

Looking back over your shoulder, 
the destination may not be the one you originally sought,

but while you have breath in your breast and a solid foot on the earth 

and yet more pathways before you,

Be mindful

and

Enjoy the Journey