Smile

Each morning I take the train into Seattle. I get off the train at King Station which is located right next Qwest Field where the Seahawks play the Dallas Cowboys this Saturday in the playoffs. (Go Hawks!)

I take a steep set of stairs to the street level and then walk four blocks where I catch a 10 minute bus that takes me near the Space Needle in a neat neighborhood in Seattle called Belltown. But over the past few months I’ve decided to walk the 2 miles from the train station to my office. With the many traffic lights, cross streets and crowded sidewalks it takes me about 40 minutes walking at a brisk pace.

It reminds me a bit of being in Germany and having to walk most places. There’s something about walking through a city that you don’t get by driving. I like to listen to the hustle and bustle of the city. I like to listen to the many local musicians playing music on the busy corners, hat on the sidewalk, full of dollar bills. I like to smell the cinnamon rolls coming out of the oven at the local bakeries. I enjoy walking by the various ethnic restaurants and seeing the families preparing for the day. I even walk by a dry cleaners that’s run by a Korean family and I like the scent that’s coming off the pipes on the roof.

The busiest intersection I pass leads to the ferry terminal going to Vashon Island. Thousands of commuters come off the ferries every morning. It’s a mix of ages, nationalities and economic levels and it’s fascinating to watch. A huge sea of people. But what I find the most interesting is a single, middle aged man who stands at the corner every morning. He stands there, holding a sign, with a big smile on his face. He doesn’t ask for money and he won’t accept money. He’s not selling anything either.

His simple cardboard sign says, “SMILE”. When I pass him each morning, I can’t help but do just that.