The Small Stuff

July 28, 2012
By Mickey Friedman

I’m trying not to sweat the big stuff. Like the end of the world as we know it. I mean, if God wanted us to have arctic ice and antarctic penguins, he wouldn’t have made coal.

And I’m trying not to let it bother me that it no longer makes sense to see Batman on the silver screen. Although my friend D. says it’s still safer statistically to see Batman than drive. Which he hopes is reassuring, but only makes me want to walk more.

Fact is, I’ve already had one friend murdered by a psychopath who was packing right here in the Best Small Town in America. So statistically my few remaining friends are safer than me.

It seems the Founding Fathers wanted all of us to have AK47s. Even the mentally-ill. If God wanted us to have gun control, he wouldn’t have made the NRA.

It’s time to ignore the big stuff and see the small.

I started last Saturday, standing in front of the Great Barrington Town Hall with my increasingly crumpled “Support Our Troops – It’s Time to Come Home” sign. Focused not on the big picture unwinnable war but on what was happening right in front of me.

The sidewalks were filled to overflowing with visitors. So very happy to see for themselves the Best Small Town in America.

There were cars everywhere. The cars were stacked up on Bridge Street past the Co-op all the way to the bridge.

See the small. My new mantra. I watched the cars and watched the traffic light. So I now know more than ever about Bridge and Main and Saturday traffic from noon to one.

On this particularly busy Saturday only four cars could make it from Bridge Street onto Main before the green light turned to red. And there were often more than twenty cars lined up on Bridge impatiently waiting to turn onto Main.

That didn’t seem fair to them. Only four cars. So at least two drivers each light change decided to plunge ahead anyway past the red. Most were headed south but a few turned north. Add to that the folks on Castle Street who had already waited what seemed to them a very long time and were now manically turning left, rushing right and plunging straight ahead toward the Co-op.

You probably have to see this mayhem for yourself. It’s all so much worse when you add to the mix the surging adrenaline of those who spend their normal lives driving the FDR Drive and the Jersey Turnpike and the LIE. These are drivers who spend their mornings and evenings weaving in and out of traffic at sixty-five miles an hour. Serious drivers. They know from years of experience that if you want to make it to Guido’s to snag that high-end proscuitto you better not hesitate long enough to let that lady in from Bridge Street. Because if you want proscuitto you’re not going to happy with Genoa salami.

A hour’s worth of tires screeching. Horns honking. But nothing that five million dollars from the Commonwealth and new New Englandy sidewalks can’t fix.

It’s amazing how fast time flies when you’re watching cars just barely missing each other and almost killing the clueless pedestrians who really believe they should walk when the Walk signal says Walk. Or the pedestrians who decide to create their own crosswalks.

When my hour was up and the war was over, I headed over to the Tune Street bench for rest and rehabilitation.

By then I was fully committed to the small stuff. And as I looked up to thank those up above for this new bliss and inner peace I saw the banner. Right there flapping ever so peacefully above me. Flapping for me and flapping for you. Flapping for the big BMW behemoth from New Jersey. For the Infiniti from New York, New York.

Reaching across Main Street, this banner has a message for us. I’d like to believe this message is from the Native Americans who first called this place home. But it’s probably from the Town Manager and the Board of Selectmen. Go to the Mahaiwe, it tells us. Not just for Freddy Roman. But for Faith Prince. And John Pizzarelli. Go many times.

I can’t afford to see Freddy Roman. Or Faith Prince. But maybe you can.

And even though the banner is perilously close to the crosswalk, one more distraction for already distracted drivers, it’s nice to imagine the Town getting thousands of dollars from the Mahaiwe for the banner. Money we can use for the schools. Or the Senior Center.

If only I had the money, I’d ask the Town Manager and the Selectmen to put up a different kind of banner. Maybe next summer the banner will say: “Support Our Troops. It’s Time To Come Home.”

It’s the small stuff that matters most.