Midnight Ramble Series - May 7, 2020

May 7, 2020

In response to Governor Baker's updated public gathering ban, my health club closed on March 16. A gym rat for decades, I needed to feel the burn. Or at least a simmer.  On March 20, I began walking. Which heretofore I have hated. Pound out a steady rhythm on an elliptical machine till I break a sweat. Love it.

Walk around the quarter mile track a quarter mile from my home? No way. Until March 20. The state is in a shelter in place mandate. If you're not an essential worker, stay home. Markets, pharmacies, liquor stores are open. Everything else closed. No cars moving on the streets. The skies hushed with no air traffic.

Around midnight March 20, my will to exercise told my ideas about walking to...well, take a walk. I donned a parka, headed out for parts unknown. That first midnight ramble has become a habit as steady as my commitment to show up at my health club.

Mitigation at that date: wash hands, do not congregate in groups of more than 10. No mention of masks yet.

The idea to walk at midnight wasn't a plan, a strategy to keep away from contact with others. I was wide awake. I  really wanted to stay in shape.  I actually thought that there was a possibility that I could resume dancing before too long (a delusion no doubt, we all have ways of dealing with a crisis) and I was going to be up for it physically.

What happened stunned me. I could not hear a thing. Anywhere. Not a single car. Not a single person on the streets. Nothing moved. Lights glowed from living rooms, kitchens, bedrooms. I stopped in my tracks several times trying to arrange this in my head. Many homes were dark, inhabitants asleep. Clearly there was activity in others but not even muffled sounds from the TVs flickering inside. I was walking through the set of a science fiction movie.

The total silence, sounds of human activity, of any kind, totally inaudible. The deep silence unnerved me.

After six weeks now, I still choose to ramble at midnight. In a way I haven't yet grasped, the silence comforts me.

The part of the ramble I like most - I walk straight down the middle of the street right on the yellow line not a car to impede me. Sort of a heady disregard for normal rule of law in a time so much has changed. Walk in the middle of the road? Every step I take reminds me I'm living in a global moment in history in which the outcome is unknown. For me, too.

Luminous golden glows pour like rivers from mute homes that stare at me as I walk past in the silence. In an hour, I'll be back in my own living room, the warm glow one of many pouring onto my steely silent street.

PHOTO ESSAY NEXT PAGE

Photos by Paul A. Tamburello, Jr.

Comments

[Mishy Lesser]

Beautiful, Paul. I enjoyed reading this 🙌🏽 Thank you!

[Paul A. Tamburello, Jr. aka pt at large]

I think we’re all feeling our ways through this, how to act, live, shop, travel…everything.

I knew something special was happening during that first ramble. I’m thinking that the stillness at that hour is the draw for me. Maybe a form of walking meditation. I absorb and reflect the stillness. Somewhere between the intersection of meditation and medicine.

These days, when that happens, you keep doing it.

[Susan Sullivan]

Nice Paul. Reality

[Paul A. Tamburello, Jr. aka pt at large]

I dance in my kitchen every day, can’t help it. Every time a song plays on radio that has a dance beat, I dance around the kitchen table, swing, blues, cajun/zydeco, and dances that haven't even been invented yet.
Nothing replaces the joy of holding a woman in my arms and interpreting it with her on the same intuitive wave length. I don’t think too hard about when that’s gonna change. I need to stay sane and positive!

[Bambi Good]

Love it! and strangely on our dead-end street, we were out looking at the Flower Moon the other night and as usual, at night, there didn't seem to be a light on anywhere... Just as I was finding it weird there were no signs of life, another couple was on the other side of the street, but that is so rare, even at 8 or 9 or 10...
You have found a new universe... may you find many more...

[Rich Wilson]

Nice!

[Susan Lyman]

Paul, This is a wonderful piece…thanks for sharing.

[Paul A. Tamburello, Jr. aka pt at large]

Thank you. Susan
We’re all coping with the new reality. My midnight rambles are an unlikely but reliable source of calming peaceful relaxation.

[Cathleen Cavanaugh]

Nice read. I’ve seen a couple of midnight ramblers around my hood. A very peaceful time in a very strange new world. Silver linings everywhere….
Be well, Cathleen

[Paul A. Tamburello, Jr aka pt at large]

You hit it, Cathleen, "silver linings everywhere” … the key is having an open heart with the eyes to see them.

The first ramble was a spontaneous but intentional moment to put on my cross training kicks and walk out the door in the dark of night.

Twenty minutes later I felt I was walking on sacred ground, as the song goes…inexplicable, mysterious, like wandering into a cathedral, celestial frescoes overhead, the altar visible at the steep crest of Palfrey Street, the choir singing mouths open lips moving soundlessly, the pews filled with invisible congregants, sitting, kneeling, standing following instinctively understood rituals with purpose, intention, and love silently expressed by showing up to be counted, for each other, for themselves, for me.

Thanks for connecting, it’s what keeps us together while we are all apart.

[Cathleen Cavanaugh]

I love your description of your walk. These past 60+ days have definitely slowed me down, looking at so many things differently, both externally and internally, all for the good. Taking walks with people I would not have otherwise, and learning different parts of their life stories, has been a real bonus. Everyone has a great story, and this has been a wonderful time to find out about the fabric of many people.