Report from the Dawn Patrol

This time of year, it's dark when I leave, save for the brilliance of the now waning full moon. You'd be surprised how many people are out in the pre-dawn when I take my morning walk in Belmont Shore.  

There's a woman jogger whose husband drives the car at idling speed right beside her. He has the passenger window rolled down so they can converse. Their voices carry down the mostly quiet palm and pole-lined canyon that is Ocean Boulevard. And there are other walkers and joggers out there too, like me, ear buds in, getting it done before the world comes to life.  

But not everybody out is busy running. On Second Street I see "the regulars." There is always a small crowd waiting for the gym to open. There are a couple guys who hose down awnings and clean windows at that hour. The staffs of the franchise and independent coffee houses are getting things ready for the day. The man who delivers the Times to the newspaper racks will honk and wave if we see one another. And I see other carriers out too, their music or conversations loud, as they bump along from one one-way street to the next throwing papers at people's doorsteps. And there is always someone at the donut shop. Sometimes I see cabbies too, pulled over, sound asleep in the car. Or driving along slowly, stalking me and other pedestrians, hoping we will someday come to our senses.  

The homeless men and women come and go. For a long time there was one man who slept on the small wooden bench on the bay side of the library, but he has moved on I guess. I used to bring him our leftovers in a small sack and, if he was awake, there would be a quiet 'thank you' from beneath his make-do bedding. Still, others trudge along, looking for food in the trash cans outside the many shuttered restaurants. One morning I came across a street person quite loudly sentencing some unseen criminal to life in prison for a murder that may or may not have been committed.  

Then there are an odd assortment of others who make an appearance, sometimes as if they were transported from some other existence. Once I came across an older man in overalls who looked every bit like a farm hand from some previous century, he had a wide, easy smile and seemed happy to see me (or maybe anyone from this modern time period). Another was a young woman who was dressed as if she had just come from a summer picnic, shorts and tee, except it was the dead of winter. She had lost her eyeglasses in the street and I helped her find them.  

I have seen other young people too from time to time, some in slinky party dresses and killer heels, hipsters talking animatedly outside the donut shop, others staggering home, apparently under the influence, and at least one who was either passed out or sound asleep in the middle of the sidewalk. I checked for trauma on that one, and found none, but still mentioned it to a cop nearby. And there are cops too, more than you would think for this neighborhood. Most appear to be patrolling. Occasionally, they are flying by enroute to something much more dramatic than sleepy Second Street.  

I don't know if all these fine folks really like to be out so early, maybe it is their choice or maybe their circumstances demand it of them. But I really do like to walk in these early morning hours while most of you are still busy dreaming. Mostly because it feels like I have the whole world to myself (even if I really don't). But I really don't mind sharing it.

Tim Bulone is an ardent observer of life on the swirling blue marble. He works at Davis Group Consulting and creates fine art and canvas prints which he likes to sell from time to time at http://www.MyFamilyArt.com He is an early morning pedestrian in Belmont Shore, where he resides with his wife and a variety of pets.