Traveling on foot has become something of a way of life for me in the last year. If you’ve ever wondered what your neighborhood’s “walk score” is you can check it at walkscore.com. Mine is 81, which is not bad for Austin. As mentioned before, I walk to the grocery store (sometimes with a shopping cart, sometimes without), my bank is located across the street as is the laundry and dry cleaners. A kick ass nursery, The Great Outdoors (fall veggies are here!) is situated under the majestic oak trees at the other end of the block and restaurants, bars, and coffee shops are thick on the ground. Otoko, which is arguably the pinnacle of fine dining in Austin at the moment is less than a mile from my front door which is also the same distance as the nearest Taco Bell (that was not me in the drive-thru lane yelling that I wanted extra sour cream on my quesadillas… maybe). Throw in a few bodegas to scratch my occasional lottery ticket itch, a hipster-mart for kombucha purchases (“Later, bro!”), a nail salon (deluxe pedicure – $22) and I find reliance on my car to be considerably diminished.
There’s one business located in my neighborhood that I have yet to frequent despite the fact that they have a 5 star rating on Yelp! – Weed-Corely Funeral Home, which is adjacent to my back fence. Now some might think that living so close to a mortuary would be morbid or ghoulish, but I see it as an amenity. If I should keel over while working in my garden, which would be my preferred way to go, then all they’d have to do is pitch me over the fence and wheel me inside thus saving a transport fee or some other egregious charge.
The building is located on a corner fronting Congress Avenue. The side facing the street that leads into my neighborhood has two garage doors that normally remain closed, but when they’re open it always piques my, morbid obviously, curiosity when I walk by. At least once a week there are a couple of men washing the vehicles; the entire fleet is a beautiful shade of dark blue and is always spotless. I’ve seen shrink-wrapped caskets (and presumably urns) being delivered and yes, I’ve seen when “customers” arrive. Everyone who works there is pretty nonchalant about it and quite honestly I’ve sort of become that way as well; you’ve seen one white sheet on a gurney, you’ve seen ’em all.
Something else I’m witness to on a regular basis are funeral processions and I am here to tell you they are just not what they used to be. I’ve never been part of a funeral procession, but I was taught that if you come upon one you should stop what you’re doing while it passes you. When I’m on foot I always stop and remove my hat. Meanwhile I witness people whizzing by on their bikes and cars or just milling about in general. It makes me sad. And a little bit miffed. No, it’s not a state funeral. People aren’t lining the streets. The television crews aren’t filming it for the 6:00 news (or live-stream these days I suppose), but the person whose mortal coil is being transported to its final resting place was no less important. It’s their last ride, you’ve got plenty more left (hopefully). Hit the pause button.
Showing respect for people we know comes naturally or at the very least it’s expected. Showing respect for a complete stranger forces us to extend ourselves a bit more. Start by showing it to someone you don’t know and isn’t able to appreciate it and work your way up. All it requires is that you be conscious even if they’re not.
I'm Just Being Frank 
Amen.
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