Random acts

I live in the downtown area, a place that has seen its fair share of comings and goings, and that still sees enough signs of life to know that it's all worth it. There seems to be a different breed of people who populate streets in the downtown area during daylight hours than there is at night, but each and every one of these people adds a certain flair to the place.

Other than the business folk who come in, park their cars and go about their daily routines before leaving for their homes (sometimes if not often located in suburbia), there are also a fair number of Secondary school students who wander the streets by day. Then there are those who come downtown to take part in the nightlife after dark.

Like most downtowns, the quiet reserved folk can often go unnoticed; it's usually only the roudies or the ones who leave their mark (both literally and figuratively) who tend to garner the attention of passers by and residents alike.

Today, I was out for a leisurely bit of exercise and from a distance, spied a famous red mailbox, but the box was sitting on its side, evidence that someone had been down this path before me, and had chosen to topple it, for what reason, I have no idea. As I approached, I discovered that there was a second box beside it, and that both boxes had been toppled. I could have chosen to walk on by, leaving the carnage for someone else to correct, but I was interiorly thinking about what it might be like if people were to perform random acts of kindness for each other rahter than what seem at times to be random acts of violence or mischief. Needless to say, I couldn't pass this opportunity up, so I paused for a moment, stooped and righted the two mailboxes.

I wonder whether other passers-by, in their cars or on foot, bothered to observe my actions, and I wonder what kinds of comments my actions might have provoked. One never knows the ripple effects of such random acts. Who knows whether a conversation sparked from that little act might not find its way to a family's dinner table tonight, and who knows what minds might be changed, or at least sensitized to the situation.

As I continued to reflect on this small act, I couldn't help hearing in my mind's voice, the voice of the Fred and George Weasley, characters from the mind of J.K. Rowling, uttering the now famous phrase 'Mischief managed'.