Omaha Rose...

How poetic that I should smell a rose, so sweet on this sunny late autumn morning along the grand interlink; the main 'drag of Omaha where express and highway funnel together. The vast concrete lanes and metal structured bridge ways twisting together like an octopus stretching as far as the eye can see blanketing the valley and hill beyond. Not since the Twin Cities of Saint Paul and Minneapolis had I experienced the thrill of that no-man's land where it's legal to walk, though few do. Most have enough sense to drive over the interstate junction, I had no choice in order to get to the Omaha ADA office. Leaving the huge mall parking lot where I found myself the night before I meandered up the grass approach and across a bridge that led quickly to a four lane "Y". One led to the expressway and the other to the last quarter of a mile before Dodge street becomes restricted to pedestrian traffic. It's all about being very patient and crossing safely during a break in the flow of cars. I have all the time in the world. There a man and woman stopped and got out to talk. He was a big bear of a man, like what I imagine the ghost of Christmas present would look like , without a beard; "Come close and know me better man!.". His wife ,Mrs. Kringle disguised as an Omaha grandmother. They were joyful and happy to love on Nice(the dog) as I answered their questions. He was very jolly in his thanks for my walking, as he was diabetic himself. I told him of the woman who lost some weight, began a walking regimen after three days she lost the numbness in her feet , how happy she was that she had taken charge, reversed the trend downward by her own hard work. He got that look that a ghost of christmas would have experiencing a fresh new and juicy fruit. His wife jabbed at his belly from six feet away and gave him that look that said a thousand encouraging words. He felt the jab and heard her words. We all chuckled as he swallowed the tasty thought. But we were in the emergency lane of the major thoroughfare so naturally someone called the police. Later I heard the radio station that interviewed me days before who informed listeners of my purpose. Soon after the merry couple left, the Omaha officer came. We discussed the situation and after getting my information he helped with an escort to the safe frontage road. There I passed a line of rose bushes still in bloom. As I always do, I stopped to smell the roses...
Usually in large metropolis areas I spend the day walking without being stopped, in big cities I disappear in the busy hustle and bustle of city life. Not in Omaha. My time in Omaha was much like all the miles since I passed over the Missouri River from Yankton into Nebraska, welcoming and warm. Unlike many large cities, Omaha rose...