I have a morning routine. Each morning, I drink three cups of coffee while reading a devotion and several newspapers. My reading complete, I head outside for my morning bike ride.
I ride the Osgood Canal Trail, which starts about a half mile from my house. Let me tell you who I saw on the trail this morning.
My first encounter was a man I see on the trail every day. He is not as old as me, but appears to be beyond retirement age.
Next, I met a woman walking her dog. Lots of people use the trail to walk their dogs. She smiled and spoke a good morning to me. Her dog was not so welcoming and yakked at me as we passed. She actually got off the trail to let me pass, which she did not have to do, as those walking or jogging have the right of way over us few bike riders.
I then came up behind a woman pushing a stroller. She was obviously Hispanic. As I passed, the child in the stroller tried to speak to me, but I did not understand what the child was saying, as it was speaking Spanish. Or maybe it wasn’t speaking Spanish – my hearing is so bad I cannot understand half the folks who speak to me in English.
Next on the trail was a mom; a mom with four little ones. One still in a stroller and three that looked to be between four and eight. The youngest, a boy, started waving to me as soon as he saw me. I don’t usually stop my ride or interrupt the others walking, but I could not help myself. I stopped for just a moment to let the mom know how much I admired her bringing these four on the trail.
Another couple hundred yards and the trail leaves the canal and runs down a sidewalk leading into the town center. A block from the main street, I had to get off the trail and ride the street. The reason, the town is laying a brick border along the side of the sidewalk. There is no reason for it except to “dress up” the look of the sidewalk. I like that my town’s elected officials want our town to look good.
A few blocks from the town center, I pass the home of an elderly black woman. She is older than me, so that means she is old, old. She is a retired teacher. She endured racial hatred as the first black teacher in a previous all-white school. She served on our town board after she retired.
Soon the trail gets back to the canal.
Another short distance and I had to cross Highway 53, a major road into our town. The town has a light which the users of the trail can activate to cause traffic to stop. I saw a pickup truck coming and was going to let it pass before I activated the light. However, the truck driver saw what I was doing and beaked his lights for me to go ahead.
The last people I saw on the trail this morning were two women. One was black, and one was white. I don’t know what they were saying to each other, but they were laughing so hard I wanted to stop them and ask, but I just nodded, and they nodded in return.
Another half mile and I was home. I had seen the new Burgaw. It was not the Burgaw I saw in our town growing up. Growing up, I never saw adults walking for their health. Certainly no adult riding a bike. I never saw anyone walking a dog. We all had dogs. They just roamed the neighborhood as we kids did. I knew everyone’s dog just like I knew who lived in every house. A black woman and a white woman strolling along talking and laughing like friends would have been the subject of gossip at the women’s beauty shops. Growing up, I never heard the word “Hispanic,” maybe Spanish, but not Hispanic -- much less seeing a Hispanic person in our town. During my growing-up years there were no female town board members; a black female board member would have been a laughable suggestion. Today we have a female mayor. The idea a truck driver should give way to a pedestrian at an intersection would have seemed absurd.
It was today’s Burgaw. I do not know a single person I saw on the trail. Could not tell you where any lived. I know some, probably most, do not share my political philosophy or my religious theology. However, here we were – black, white, brown – young and old –fit and not so fit – starting our morning sharing a community resource. Smiling at each other as we passed. We were community. I love the new Burgaw.
About Gary
Gary Trawick is a retired Superior Court Judge, writer, and teller of stories. He and his wife, Jennings, live in Burgaw.
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