Sidewalks? (Christopher Ortiz)

Sidewalks. Who knew? Thank Chris. The first part of this focuses on the past, and how inextricably linked it is to what we do, feel, etc. in the present, as well as to how we will in the future. Read books like All the Kings Men by Robert Penn Warren to see how bound you are, really. Or just turn around. Look back down your sidewalk.

"Sidewalks matter. Everyday I travel on my sidewalk. If I dare look behind (and sometimes I must) I should see it as self-reflection. Maybe there is a philosophical reason that sweltering surfaces tend to reflect on a sunny day, although they probably provide a clearer reflection on a cloudy day. My sidewalk has crossed many other people’s sidewalks and those sidewalks matter as much as mine. I think I should pay close attention to the sidewalks that continue running next to mine many years after those paths first crossed. Those sidewalks are the beginnings of a future road. The cracks in my sidewalk should not only be superstitiously avoided but should also be examined as closely as the smoother surfaces; for the cracks sometimes provide the most useful information. I see there are many convoluted twists and turns in my sidewalk. I see there are numerous dips and valleys. I see forks that needed to be backtracked and then redirected. I see an occasional tree root that has tried to grow beneath my sidewalk and disrupt its continuity. I appreciate the places where I decided to use such a disruption as a ramp for a skateboard. In some places my sidewalk is rough, some places smooth, some places dirt poor and in some places colored with chalk. There are places where my sidewalk still holds puddles from the rain and even others where the sidewalk was cracked by the heat. There are sunny patches and there are shady patches. There are ants and worms, some dead and dried. There are splotches of blood and some tears I’ve cried. Crossing my sidewalk are big-wheel marks, scooter marks, skateboard marks, rollerblade marks, tricycle marks, bicycle marks, motorcycle marks and tire tracks. At times my sidewalk veered in the wrong direction and it took another sidewalk to push it back on track. In places, my sidewalk is wide enough for two, four or more and in some places it is only narrow enough for one. From the first square, with handprints and initials and dates and as unique as the snowflakes that have fallen and sometimes melted on my squares, the one thing for sure is that the sidewalk I’ve turned back to reflect upon is undeniably mine.

Here, however, is where the self-reflection ends and I must consciously force myself to turn around and start churning the concrete mixture for today, tomorrow and the next because what really matters now is how I use what I have learned from the sidewalk behind me to construct the sidewalk ahead. There is no use turning around anymore for anything other than self-reflection because that concrete has dried solid. What lies behind, I can no longer change nor control. Fortunately, as I turn away from the sidewalk behind me, I see unscathed dirt ahead and take solace in knowing that I have the ability to pour the spinning concrete from the mixer in almost any way that I please. I can take care to choose whose path I pour mine beside and I also have the ability to point my concrete in a totally new and unexplored direction if I so desire. I may even cautiously add a few new ingredients into my mixer. But I must never forget to take into account the mistakes and successes learned from the sidewalk behind, because that is how I grow. That is how we all can make our sidewalks stronger, longer-lasting, and more enjoyable for those to walk upon with us. Sidewalks matter."