The Crossings

Another Philly adventure with more traffic reminders of previous trips. We closely witnessed two uncomfortably close calls for pedestrians, and they are reminders that in July we survived a similar experience.

The first incident included two 20-something pedestrians startled by a car's loud horn. The pedestrians were totally in the wrong, trying to cross without the protective cross signal, so they were naturally on high alert. They quickly jumped back, and sincerely yelled, "Sorry" to the car. They were crossing without waiting for the safe signal (an unsuspecting older pedestrian, like the one in last week's experience that I wrote about, would have been challenged to react so quickly).

The second incident included just one 20-something pedestrian, distracted wearing headphones. It was a huge city bus this time, light-seconds from hitting Mr. Headphones. The blaring, heart-stopping bus horn frightened Mr. Headphones (and us as observers) to, faster than lightning, step back onto the curb (no breathing or hesitation allowed). The whoosh of the bus visibly shook his body.

That alert city bus driver was able to honk and wasn't distracted like our mid-summer bus driver. Our highly distracted bus driver did not have enough hands for a multi-task horn honk. The lawless bus driver (hard to forget) had blindly changed lanes to pass another bus, just prior to approaching a basically red traffic signal. He chose to scream through the intersection and run the red light, putting unsuspecting signal-obeying pedestrians like us in serious danger.

And then there is the story about Mr. Squirrel in Philly's beautiful Rittenhouse Square, that even more so punctuates our summer and fall adventures. What could be called a providence mark. A vivid reminder of crossing guard experiences that were too close for comfort...

Mr. Squirrel, back up the tall tree
Our hearts cheered after he survived a perilous fall

On Friday evening as we strolled along the park's quaint brick sidewalks, to my right a short, and what I thought was a stocky, branch dropped to the sidewalk with a dull thud. It wasn't a branch after all, but a squirrel, apparently crossing along a branch. He fell with a wallop, 30 feet! 

We thought Mr. Squirrel was a gonner, for sure, and watched. He must have seen stars for a brief moment, like being hit by a city bus or car. Dizzily he stood, then somehow headed for safety from humans, back to the 100-year-old tree from which he fell. He climbed halfway and momentarily parked there, dazed. Then he slowly climbed up toward the branch from which he fell, and stopped again to give more time to steady himself before getting back up on the horse saddle (or tree branch). 

Our hearts cheered. Mr. Squirrel survived, as did we after our frightening close call. With how close that bus was to us, we both could have seen heavenly stars or suffered physically. Angels were definitely looking out for us. No doubt about it. We are thankful for God's protection and mercies, throughout our entire move.

Looking forward to getting back up on the horse saddle (or train) for next week's trip to fun Philly, with notable adventures. No more pedestrian-related nightmares; our plan is to experiment riding the subway system.