If You See Something Missing, Say Something

Less than a month ago, I reported a tree near my home that seemed to be on its last legs. It had all the tell-tale signs: scant leaves, brittle bark, and broken branches. But its most prominent and curious attribute were two small branches full of leaves, rising up straight to the sky.

My apartment building was built in 1941, and as I passed this tree every day, I couldn't help wondering what those two branches signified. Were they towers of life, guarding the tree from its own mortality? Were they symbols of rebirth, sprouting from the earth? Or were they some strange mutation beyond explanation? I'd love to say I found an answer, but as the great Dr. Leonard "Bones" McCoy would have said: "Damn it, Jim, I'm a writer, not an arborist." (By the way, if there are any arborists reading this, I would love to understand why those branches grow vertically. So please feel free to comment on this post or send me a link).

Still, the reality is that dead trees fall and kill people. So I went online and contacted New York City 311. Within a month, the tree was gone.

That troubled tree reminds me of when I was on the subway this year, only a few feet from a man who had gone commando, his wet pants sitting right beside him. Passengers took turns staring, rolling their eyes, and laughing to themselves. I exited at the next stop and notified an MTA employee. Within a couple of minutes, an announcement was made: the trains had been delayed for police activity and would resume shortly. The delay only lasted a couple of minutes, but the lesson was clear: if you see something missing something -- leaves, pants, whatever -- say something. There are people ready to help.

If You Can't Give Buskers Money, Give Them a Hand

Of the many careers suffering in our new economy, one seems to have the worst prognosis: music. It's not just because digital music is more accessible and affordable than ever before. Or, that in the age of sampling and rap-pop songs, there seem to be fewer original hits and more forgettable one-hit wonders. But rather, it's that most people who perform live music don't attract admiration; they generate sympathy.

You're not supposed to give money to people on the subway, and for good reason. It only encourages those in need to ask for more and avoid the many non-profit and government organizations that provide far more food and better services with your money. But at the same time, the fact that most riders ignore these buskers reflects our changing values. A bunch of kids breakdancing and hanging upside down in the subway may not seem like art -- but it does require creativity and practice. Three guys in ponchos and sombreros singing "Guantanamera" may seem a bit dated -- but it's still a beautiful way for Mariachi singers to share their talent with the world. The truth is that those crowded platforms and dark subway tunnels where we crush candy on our phones, read paperbacks and kindles, and curse about train delays -- they may be the only places where live music and dance will survive.

You can't stop progress, and that includes the fast-moving world of mobile communications. But I do hope that no matter how many distractions the future throws our way, we'll always find time to look up and appreciate the enormous talent riding right in front of us.