Hall-Walking

I have just engaged in the new Olympic sport of Hall-Walking.  (Just joking, of course.)  When it is very cold or wet, I choose to get my workout by walking the lengths of the hallways and stairways up to the 16th floor and back.  I get my heart rate up and work up a little bit of a sweat. 

The hallways were refurbished in the fall with fresh paint and paper, as well as new carpet and furniture being installed.  It's not such a bad place to exercise.  Although the nature of living in a high-rise apartment building is that we have consciously chosen unanimity, tonight I found myself noticing how many of us have chosen to personalize our doors.

There are many mezuzahs. There was a seasonal teddy bear in a red and white sweater with a heart on it and a primitive set of red hearts. A blue heart greeted me with the Norwegian "Velkommen." I saw a hand-carved wooden owl and a Mardi Gras mask. A premature wreath of dogwood blossoms did remind me that spring will come. And, I must mention the door mat that said, "A wine snob and a normal person live here."

I couldn't help but find my mind making up stories about the people who lived behind each door.  Of course, they were pure works of fiction because I have no idea who lives behind each door, even age or gender of the resident.  Yet, I couldn't help but create characters.  Maybe the fact that my mother-in-law liked owls made me think that an 80ish female lived behind that door, and my friend of Norwegian ancestry who had lived in Norway for a while suggested such features of the resident behind Velkommen.  I thought of my dance instructor who had some splendid Mardi Gras masks when I passed that door.  As someone who loves good wine, but doesn't think of herself as a snob, I had to wonder which the owners of the mat would think I was.

My neighbors' doors made me want to know these people.  I could almost imagine myself sitting in the lobby watching people come and go, wanting to ask "Are you the wine snob?"

I've lived in these towers for almost seven years, and there are some fascinating people who live here.  Not long after moving here, I met a woman who must be well into her 90s now.  She was one of the first women in the OSS, the predecessor to the CIA, and she was still as perky as I was even though I was much younger.  I was fascinated by another woman who took off to live in several European cities when she was in her 50s.  She, too, has tales to tell. I would be remiss if I didn't mention the retired NASA librarian, born in Chile who now lives part time in Italy. On the younger end of things is the woman who runs the grants program for the National Endowment of the Arts and a man who is an administrative law judge at the General Accounting Office (GAO.)

What stories the people behind these doors could tell. I would love to knock on a door and ask about the person. Since people have chosen unanimity, would that be rude? Maybe I could just push myself out of my comfort zone and go to some social events in the building.  Now that's a thought. I always have too many excuses: I worked hard, I'm tired, I need to get lunch and coffee ready for tomorrow, blah, blah, blah. I may miss meeting some really interesting people if I don't go.  So nudged by these fascinating and inviting doors, I vow to attend the next social event...no matter how tired I am.