There are people I see in my everyday life I recognize easily enough but do not know. There are a lot of people like that in all our lives now. Not many of us go fishing on a Sunday afternoon with our butcher or our candle stick maker any more. Much of the human contact in our lives is very incidental.
I was behind one of these nameless people in my life as we waited for a red light to be replaced with a green one. He was with his boys in their Volkswagen. Squareheads around here fucking near all drive German makes. One of the boys' backpack was sitting on the Volksie's trunk.
I looked around real careful to make sure it was safe for me to step out into the middle of the road. If you have ever gotten out of your car in an intersection you know what a vulnerable feeling it is to be on foot, in a black sea of asphalt, with all these demented people swerving around in their cars like John van Dongen.
I grabbed the pack and scooted over to the driver's window, knocked, and asked, "One of your boys missing a backpack?" He recognized it, and his boy's good luck, and he rolled down the window and said, "Thanks a lot."
As I was hurrying back to my car I could see the other drivers watching had gotten a chuckle out of the boy forgetting his pack on the trunk. We all fuck up. Fucking up is every bit as inevitable as death and taxes. Then the boy whose pack it was leaned out of the car and yelled, "Thanks mister!"
Being neighbourly is what being an Anarchist is all about.