Tres bien
In Philadelphia, WMMR’s midday disc jockey is Pierre Robert (pronouced: Roh-bear). Spreading good vibes among the citizens of our fair city for over three decades, Pierre vibrates humor, kindness and a special kind of light. I was listening to his first show.
Street parking
When Center City parking meters still gulped quarters, and four quarters could still buy an hour of street parking, Pierre would encourage friends and neighbors who had yet to meet to drop a quarter in an expired meter to save that friend a ticket.
Indeed, the smallest of gestures can build the healthiest of communities.
A book is a book
A book is a wellspring. A book is a prompt. A book is a pipeline. A book is an artwork. A book is a trivet. A book is a cover. A book is a medium. A book is doorstop. A book is a vehicle.
A book is a parking meter
I don’t read poetry. More accurate, perhaps, is the fact that I don’t pursue poetry. it reveals itself, or it doesn’t, but it always does.
Read enough of anything and poetry presents itself reliably. In biographies, blogs, novels, textbooks, magazines, even technical briefs. Look closely, it’s always there.
For years, following Pierre’s lead, while in used bookstores, thrift shops or libraries, I opened random books and drop a slip of paper, with another writer’s poem, between the pages. Leaving home, I always made sure I had something printed on sheets small enough to fit in a paperback, and always made sure it was an unknown poem.
Love notes
Moving forward, once a week, I am going to write a love note to a human being. Any human being. Genderless. Genuine. Unknown. Thoughtful. Empathetic. Compassionate. Real.
I’ll leave it in a book.
Perhaps it will be to me. Perhaps it will be to you.
I’m asking you to do the same.
—