Even before the pandemic, people were outside walking. But now there are lots more people walking. But not just walking, unfortunately. On their cell phones. Which means they are talking louder than they realize. They are gesticulating to someone who cannot see them (unless on a video call.) They are walking dogs but not interacting with them and not being aware of other dog walkers around them. They are missing out on real-time human interaction, something we really need right now, but unassisted, without devices. They are in a beautiful park with spectacular water views. But they are not experiencing this. They could be anywhere really. The multitaskers are missing the point.
Taking a walk is a legitimate thing to do. An honorable use of one’s time. I’ve always loved to walk. As a child, I walked miles with my father every weekend. There weren’t many organized activities in those days and in any case, we couldn’t have afforded them. So we strolled, sometimes in companiable silence, sometimes chatting away. We appreciated the aroma of the bread factory we often passed, sometimes stopped to watch kids playing basketball in the schoolyards, found wildflowers (yes even in the city).
Now I walk to clear my head, and to exercise the dogs. I must admit I talk to the dogs just so they know I am paying attention. And because they are very good listeners. They do know, you know. Just like a baby in a carriage who is being walked by the nanny or parent who is on the phone. They know they are being ignored. And nobody, dog or human, likes that.
I can’t help feeling ignored too. Even wearing a mask, I can still nod in a friendly way and call out a greeting, comment on the weather or the dogs. But the people on the phones are not really there. Not present in my present in any case. It’s like they are in another dimension. Cue the Outer Limits theme.
When you walk unencumbered, you notice and appreciate things. It is in fact, the opposite of doing nothing. Depending on where you are, you smell the tang of the earth, a passing whiff of perfume, the salt of the ocean or the organic aroma of low tide. The smells evoke memories or thoughts. You generate ideas. And you hear things too. Fascinating snippets of conversations. (Who isn’t a little nosy?) A piano concerto wafting on the wind. Sometimes, inexplicably, and if you’re lucky, the plaintive sound of bagpipes. It happened to me once. I never saw the piper was deeply moved. I called out to another walker – isn’t that amazing, or something like that. She looked at me blankly, kind of shocked that an actual person in the here and now expected a response. She pointed to her earbuds and walked hurriedly on She hadn’t heard a thing.