Well, not fear exactly. I felt some caution and the heightened awareness that goes with it, but wasn’t really scared.
I walked down to the grocery store earlier tonight, picked up a small quantity of things–quantities have to be small when you hoof it most of the time.
I’m walking back home. Ahead of me are two fellows, walking very much slower than my pace. From behind, it’s hard to judge, but I’m positive they were teenage boys. I thought that immediately, mostly because of something in the way they sort of slouched as they walked–can’t quite put my finger on it, but not the slouch itself but the particular way of slouching slowly forward just signified adolescence.
I’m closing the distance rapidly; this happens often enough on these walks. I tend to walk faster than a lot of other people; I don’t think it’s impatience exactly, simply that a faster stride is more comfortable for me. I’m expecting to just walk on past in a bit.
Ahead, they stop. Slouching Adolescent on the right bends down, picks up a bottle that’s laying there. (Insert usual anti-littering rant in here. I picture a purgatory where a demonic version of Woodsie the Owl awaits people who just toss their garbage anywhere. “You were WARNED! You should have given a hoot! Bwahahaha!” Something like that.)
He lifts it a small distance. And smashes it on the sidewalk.
They laugh, and begin slouching slowly forward again. There is now shattered glass on the sidewalk there.
I took the opportunity to stop, kneel down, tighten my shoelaces. I did not pass them, and stayed a good distance behind. At the glassed area, I brush it off the walk, as best I’m able (which wasn’t very, affecting only the larger chunks), with sideswipes of my foot. At the corner, they went one way, and I went the other.
I’d like to just shrug at this kind of event. I can’t. I think it points at one of the root causes of just why the world is as messed up as it sometimes is. Not the big things. Not the huge outlier acts of wrongness. Those are horrible, but a symptom more than a cause, I think. The little things, the small acts of banality and evil combined. People doing them, and just laughing briefly, then walking on, never to think of it again.
I find myself wanting to end this with a moral. I’m hard-pressed to come up with a good one, so I’ll settle for: there is no such thing as a trivial act.
Or if nothing else, if you ever find yourself tempted to deliberately leave broken glass scattered over a public area–don’t.