Prasith_To photo
"You're holding up traffic, lady!" a guy across the street yelled impatiently.
This was not the Minneapolis she knew in the 1960s, Mira, also in a stew, thought. And where were those cute Boy Scouts who helped little old ladies across the street? They're never there when you need them.
She remembered the "walk" light starting at the 15-second count as she began walking across the street and then it getting, so quickly, down to 9, 8, 7 …
Then, suddenly, the front left wheel of Mira's black walker fell off, rolled aimlessly down one of the light rail tracks and fell into the groove meant only for a train wheel.
The traffic light went yellow, and Mira heard the light rail train come down the street, blowing its commanding horn in two short bursts.
The train stopped. All traffic both ways on University Avenue stopped, even though it was busy with University of Minnesota students going to and from classes. Mira stood petrified in the middle of the street, straddling one side of the light rail tracks in her white hat, gray coat and worn, black slippers. She couldn't move the now three-legged, cock-eyed walker to get to the lost wheel, which stopped rolling just six feet from her walker.
"Lady, you're blocking traffic!" the impatient man on the sidewalk behind her again yelled.
"I can't move," she screamed in a cracking, weaker voice. Her purse, perched on her walker's seat, then fell onto the pavement in front of her.
Finally, a more patient man dashed toward her. "What's the trouble?" he asked softly.
"I lost my wheel," she screamed, terrified and ashamed of all the commotion she was causing. "I can't get it. I need my walker to walk – and I need my purse."
He retrieved the wheel from the track, stuck it back on the walker, put her purse back into the walker's seat, wrapped the strap around the walker's left handle and helped Ellen slowly complete her street crossing.
The train's horn, this time with less persistence, blew once again as it proceeded through the intersection.
"I'm Jonathon," he announced once they had both safely reached the sidewalk. "What's your name?"
"Mira, Mira Lee," she replied in a whisper.
"Well, Mira Lee, what's with the black tape?" Jonathon asked with a grin.
"The wheel kept falling off, so I wrapped it with tape. It worked OK for quite a while."
"That is not working now. You need to get this fixed or this will happen again. Maybe you need a new walker."
It's only 10 or 12 years old," Mira found herself saying, knowing just after she said it that it wasn't a creditable alibi.
“An angel of God never has wings.” - Joseph Smith, Jr.
"Well, every time you go over a crack or recess in the pavement, it's now going to fall off again, and you're going to be in another predicament," he warned. "Black tape doesn't help anymore."
"I know, I know. I just haven't had a chance to get it fixed."
"You live close by?"
"Just down this block," Mira mumbled as she pointed her still-trembling hand forward. "I remember when this street was not hard to cross – before they put in the light rail tracks about 10 years ago. The tracks are treacherous ..."
"Yes, when you have a walker, I can imagine," Jonathon reflected. "Hey, how about I walk you home?"
And Jonathan did just that, carefully placing her walker inside her door so the hobbled wheel wouldn't fall off.
Now less shaken and safely home, Mira remembered Dan Rather, her favorite on-camera TV guy, once saying, "Americans will put up with anything -- provided it doesn't block traffic."
That proved to be true, Mira thought, even in the middle of "Minnesota nice."
A couple of days later, she received a larger-than-normal package from Amazon. It was a new walker.
Mira's takeaway tip from her story: Maybe this is why we're all here: to help each other feel safe.
Here’s to mature-adult living!
Jim Hasse, ABC, GCDF retired, author of “52 Shades of Graying”
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