My Neighbor

When I got home from work yesterday, Consuela was sweeping the sidewalk. And not, as Robert Rauschenberg says, with an “ignorant” broom either. Her broom has the knowledge of many, many layers of grime from the sidewalks on our block. I didn’t think too much of it. After all, Consuela tends to sweep our side of the block’s dead leaves, cigarette butts and general grit into neat piles at least once a week. She also pulls the weeds and tufts of grass that make their way through the bricks. Last night she was gathering the debris and packing it into the several pot holes that pepper the pavement of our block. A nice gesture from someone who doesn’t own a car. She walks everywhere.

Consuela has some adopted family members in Baton Rouge who check on her every once in awhile and call us if they don’t hear from her for an extended period of time. They needn’t worry. Consuela is made of stronger stuff than most. She stayed through Hurricane Katrina and swept the sidewalks in the days following. The National Guard would stop by to bring MRE’s to the “little lady who sweeps”.

Consuela has lived in her modest home for a long time. She was born in Honduras or some other Latin American country. Her English is spotty. She is up in age. Yesterday her companion, a blind dog the color of old dishwater, disappeared. To be honest, I don’t miss the dog. It barked a lot and tended to use the area directly in front of my door as a doggy port-o-let. Still, I feel bad for Consuela. She didn’t seem visibly at least distraught about the dog. Instead, she decided to clean up the sidewalk.

We went out to dinner at around 7:00. And when we returned around 9:00 we could just see Consuela down at the other end of the block still sweeping. Sweeping and gathering her small piles of dirt and weeds to press firmly into the nearby potholes. I thought of her this morning on my way to work. We could learn a lot from Consuela about contributing something to New Orleans. In any small way that we can.