Dear Editor:
It is my practice to go down to Sinatra Park for sunrise or sunset and sometimes both. On Friday August 23rd, I was crossing Washington Street at 5th and was heading toward the river to catch the changing light and to watch the illumination of New York City across the Hudson. The light had changed and I was looking towards the river and not down at the uneven pavers.
I was moving quickly and the rim of my sandal caught the edge of a raised paved and my foot came to a full stop. Before I knew what had happened I was propelled forward. My arms were outstretched and somehow I held my head up or else I would have been face down on the hard, unyielding pavers.
What happened next was quite wonderful. Strangers came to my rescue. A large, muscular man wearing red shorts and shirt lifted me up in one smooth and gentle move after I first resisted. Another man brought me my keys and another my undamaged glasses. A brave Hoboken woman held up oncoming traffic, as the light had changed and impatient drivers seemed ready to move through the rescue group that clustered near me.
A young nurse and others helped me to the bench in front of the 7-11. Being a nurse myself, I had immediately checked to see that all was in working order, hands, knees, wrists, able to bear weight, no new deformities to my arthritic hands. Another miracle, only a skinned knee, from friction, pants had protected it from direct contact with the street. Some bruised and bloodied toes that match the rest of unpedicured toes on walker’s feet. The young nurse, well ready for an emergency, with her First Aid kit, had cleaned and bandaged my damaged foot.
I did thank everyone that I saw but was still off center and write this to thank everyone who helped me that day. I did go down to river edge, saw the changing light, and expressed my gratitude to the universe. This city, Hoboken, is a great place to live in and it is that often unseen kindness of strangers to each other that makes it so wonderful.
With gratitude and thanks to all who were with me that evening,
Rose Orozco