Walking Along

At the end of February I underwent open heart surgery from which now in late April I am finally almost altogether recovered.  My index to this is monitoring in an informal way the decline in dull pain that emanates from the place where they cut my sternum in two and afterwards stapled it (I guess) back together.  Bone takes a long time to grow together and hurts while its doing it.  In all other respects I take the testimony of my friends who marvel at how active, sparkling, alert and lively I am compared to the dull Charlie of months ago whose blood evidently was moving very sluggishly through clogged arteries and valves. Friends marvel; one of my daughters had a more dubious expression of enthusiasm:  "Dad, you look great!  You look eighty!"  My goal is to walk into downtown Sarasota, some three miles away.  First, however, Arlington Park beckons, with its one half mile path, something I am sure to do well since even in pre-surgery days I could make it, albeit with many stops along the way.  Twice around the path at Arlington Park for starters is my immediate objective.  The walk to down town Sarasota is mostly along side streets with manicured sidewalks of the rich whose giant mansions line the way.  So it will be a pleasant walk in every way.  Otherwise I can once again take up walking to our health club, although here I must confront the squalor of Tamiami Trail, as Route 41 i called.  Like Los Angeles Sarasota is utterly a car city, and as befits a populace which is proud to carry fire arms openly, there are--I guess I must somehow call them city streets--such as the Trail, where traffic moves six abreast and highway speeds, past drive in diners, car washing establishments, mini malls,  and all the other grotesque manifestations of a car culture.  The sidewalk is not exactly designed for the pedestrian but rather slants toward the street since it is the entrance to one after another parking lot along the way for these mini malls and drive in shops.  I didn't used to mind walking this route, but as I have aged and grown frailer, albeit with a heart pumping far more efficiently, I am more sensitive to the trucks, cars, and motorcycles thundering past me on the Trail, sometimes even feeling the air pressure from an especially large and fast vehicle moving along.  Soon I will be taking my new tentativeness to Manhattan where I notice already that as I step down from the front door of our apartment building I must look to join the stream of human traffic marching along in both directions, finding the moment to break into their ranks, not unlike making that turn off a street with no traffic light, onto a main thoroughfare.  Someone suggested carrying a cane, if not for support, then to beat them off, if I cannot make a path through the crowds.