Sidewalks

 

I’m an urban boy. I grew up in suburbia with rows of single-family houses that all look alike. Each were on a paved street with curbs with overhead lights. Between the street and the well-groomed lawns is a sidewalk.

A walkway is any type of defined space or pathway for use by a person traveling by foot or using a wheelchair. These may be pedestrian walkways, shared use paths, sidewalks, or roadway shoulders.

The sidewalk was to deliver the pedestrian to a post office, dry good store, mercantile merchant or tavern avoiding the mess made from the horse drawn carriages in the street.

Before anyone had access to an automobile, we walked. For long distance, we took public transportation, but schools and churches and groceries were close enough to walk to and back without total exhaustion.

My friends were within walking distance. Our favorite hang-outs were within walking distance. Before I could ride my bike in the street, I circled the block on the sidewalk.

Though the sidewalk technically belonged to the city, people took pride in sweeping the leaves and shoveling the snow to clear the pathway. Kids could use the sidewalk to play marbles or as a pallet for chalk masterpieces until the rain came.

Could always tell the boundaries of the city for that was where the sidewalk ended. Instead of a flat secure walking surface, there were hills of tall grass and gullies to hike through to get to friends in the county. The only other option was to walk in the street dodging motor vehicles.

When relatives would come into town from the country, there was a pride of having a sidewalk in front of our house for easy access.

I sit on my porch as the sunsets and have brief conversations with neighbors walking by on the sidewalk. They bring their dogs or roll their children but are close enough to recognize faces and make a brief connection moving east or west. Joggers use the street, for it is wider and in this neck of the woods have fewer delivery trucks to avoid.