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It was beautiful at dusk at the high school baseball field. The ballgame had just ended, unfortunately in a loss, but no one really seemed to care. The ballplayers in this summer league were going through the motions of straightening up the field so it would be in good shape for whoever would be playing there next. They were having as good a time doing this as they had when they were playing the game.
It was as though it didn’t make any difference that they were doing what would be deemed “work” under any other situation. Their camaraderie was evident as they worked together as a unit. It was as though one of the lessons that I always liked about team sports was finally having its pay off. Having teamwork in whatever you do in life. This little thought, combined with the time of day and weather, had a truly calming effect. It was one of those moments that every once in a while we all experience. Granted not often enough.
As I was waiting for my son to finish up his chores on the field I wandered over towards the football field. I was surprised to see so many people utilizing the track. It was like they were all part of some secret club that I had not been privy to. To any one who knows me, you would not find this surprising, since one look at me and you know that exercise is not high on my “things to do” list.
But there they were. Dozens of them. Walking, power walking, running, jogging, and bicycling around the track. As they engaged in their given activities there was a tranquil silence as the only form of communication was eye contact and sometimes not even that. Many had on Walkmans or I Pods grooving to the music. I envisioned tunes like the themes from Rocky or Chariots of Fire. I’m only guessing there because I didn’t ask anyone, but they just fit with the gentle moment I was imagining.
What I was really struck by was the genuine sense of community. Even though everybody was doing something different they were co-existing perfectly. All of the nationalities that make up the Southern California landscape were represented in this circular trek to nowhere and there wasn’t any animosity being exhibited. Nobody was giving their fellow track dwellers dirty looks, making snide comments to the people they were with, or infringing upon each other’s space.
Quite the contrary. The power walkers weren’t tailgating the walkers, the joggers weren’t positioning themselves in front of the runners forcing them to go slower than they wanted to. The bicyclists stayed to the outside of the track so as not to interfere with anyone who was on foot. It was harmony on a small scale but a microcosm of how life should be everywhere.
So why were all of these people capable of getting along so well on a dirt track in the middle of the city? When I mentioned what I had witnessed to my wife her immediate response was that they were not having to talk to one another. On some level that may be true if you think about it. Many times a lot of the frustration we experience is due to the language barriers that exist. There are those who get upset when trying to convey what they need, but don’t have a command of the language, and the equal irritation by those trying to comprehend what is trying to be conveyed.
It can also be very frustrating when speaking to somebody you share a common language with because there are so many people who have serious comprehension problems. I don’t know about you, but there have been numerous times when I have stood right in front of someone and tried to explain something and have them not understand a single word of what I was saying. It’s as though I was speaking to a wall. Had I not engaged in the exercise of talking in the first place, and just exchanged a glance instead, I probably would have spent more time with that person and not walked away in disgust.
I also have a hard time believing that the common courtesies I saw displayed on the track were adhered to by all of those individuals once they left and got behind the wheel of their cars. Maybe I’m wrong, and in the little fantasy world that I was envisioning, I really hope that I am. I want to believe that these are the people who use their turn indicators and drive the speed limit. That they are the ones who drive like they jog, displaying the same courtesy to those on the road that they do to their fellow residents of the track.
The other thing I thought while I stared at the track was that this was the kind of scene that you don’t find everywhere and one of those little scenes that make Temple City an oasis in the suburbs. While our hometown feel seems to be dwindling with every massive mansion and condo unit that is built, there are still little reminders of what we once were. Sad as it may be, one day the track will be as
crowded as our neighborhoods and streets are and, with the lack of green space available, it will never be able to be replaced. At least not in this small burg.
So relish those few moments when the light is just right and the scene is serene because they are becoming few and far between.
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