Sidewalk manners in the face of surprise.

After getting my nails done today — for my Palo Alto High school reunion this weekend — I walked past the church to my car.

A slightly dishevelled dark-haired guy, 40 or so, in a beat-up hat and an uncomfortably-warm looking dirty olive green jacket suddenly appeared from the

bus bench and cruised toward me, an indecipherable but mostly pleasant light in his eyes.  Ever since President Obama revealed how he’s felt

the shame of being walked around — in response to the Trayvon Martin case — I’ve doubled down on

trying to not avoid other people on the sidewalk. He seemed more dirty than dangerous, so  I made eye contact, adjusted my

“Mid-Life Career Change” book under my arm, and together we slid into a narrow channel on the side of the bench.

As I realized one of us would have to move to get out of there, he gracefully stepped against the bushes, smiled, and with a sweep

of his arms indicated, “You first”.  I took the opening, squeezed past him and said “Thank You”.