Neighbors

Since breaking my arm in a fall last Feb. 24 (an unforgettable black day, as it is also the day Russia invaded Ukraine), I have been under strict doctor’s orders to (1) walk as exercise and (2) get some sun – both for at least 30 minutes, the former daily, the latter as often as weather permits.

I’m nowhere near a park and I don’t want to risk life and limb and black lung by walking in the streets around my neighborhood. Fortunately, the building I live in has a roof deck, so each morning I climb the three flights of stairs (additional exercise) to the roof.

Once around the roof is 200 steps by my stride, and it takes me roughly half an hour to complete 15 rounds or 3,000 steps, 30 percent of that magical number of 10,000 steps a day. Taking two minutes to complete 200 steps – or 100 steps a minute – qualifies as brisk walking, which, a recent study showed, gives one a 30 percent lower risk of developing dementia and a 25 percent lower chance of developing heart disease or cancer. That study was recently published in the JAMA Internal Medicine and JAMA Neurology journals, for those who may think I’m pulling numbers out of thin air.

Depending on what time I wake up, I walk between 6 to 8 a.m. so I can mostly have the roof to myself, except for the maintenance staff who check on the pumps and other equipment located on the roof.

On some days Neighbor A comes up with his 7-month old dachshund Cheers, a rambunctious, energetic puppy who will not take no for an answer when she wants to play. Past 7 a.m. Neighbor B is there with his young son, and they walk to a lively playlist that adds a spring to my step. I’ve encountered, on separate occasions, two very serious exercisers, judging by their get-ups (certainly not the t-shirt and shorts that I – as well as Neighbors A and B and his son – have on, although I should say I’ve invested in a proper pair of walking/running shoes, which is much, much kinder to my aging knees). But them I’ve only seen once; I guess the roof isn’t an ideal exercise venue.

Consistently present is a flock of pigeons. When I started walking seven months ago, there were just two of them, and Mang Jess the maintenance man would give them bigas (rice). I guess they spread the word, and the next week there were three, then four, and in the succeeding weeks five birds came for breakfast. As of yesterday there were six of them, four I recognize as sukis from the patterns of their feathers. They seem quite comfortable having us humans around, sharing the roof.

I’ve been feeding them too, and it’s gotten so that as soon as I step out the door they come down from their perch, ready for breakfast. Neighbor B’s son brings them seeds, and instead of just scattering it on the ground, he makes neat little piles, one for each bird. Unfortunately they don’t follow GMRC but crowd around one or two piles then move on to the next ones when they’ve finished. They are zero-waste eaters; after they’re done you won’t see a single grain of rice or seed left.

I don’t know where these pigeons are the rest of the day and night, if they have a coop somewhere or are wild. But seeing them there brings to mind Christ’s admonition on worry (Matthew 6:26): “Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?”