Wednesday, Dec. 17, 2014

What were they thinking? They are young — probably pre-pubescent — boys who almost caused my workout partner to reduce Las Vegas’ population by three.

Let me explain:

Always one to believe the pedestrian has rights and drivers aren’t automatically conferred their own rights by virtue of having lots of horses under the hood, I try to be accommodating to pedestrians. Anyone on foot, crossing to Charlie’s Restaurant — and most of them jaywalk — gets the no-problem-go-ahead gesture from many motorists on that slow-moving street.

Wednesday was different. As we headed west on Mills, I noticed the three boys walking from a trailer park on the north side of Mills toward the lot across the street. The driver didn’t snap that there were three — suddenly appearing — potential fatalities waiting, as they sallied across the four lanes. We came perilously close to running over all of them. A shocking, heart-pounding part of the episode was the boys’ obvious lack of concern for their own safety.

The driver, Diana Chavez, a member of my Wilson Complex exercise group, honked her horn to alert the boys that her large vehicle was coming from the east. The toot of the horn, I’m convinced, emboldened them instead. Almost as if on cue, they slowed their pace. And what amazed me even more was their confidence (I’m tempted to use “arrogance” and “cockiness”) that showed they weren’t about to hurry for anyone.

So they sauntered across two more lanes of traffic as if they owned the street and as if crosswalks had never been invented.

None of the three ever even looked our way. Of course, drivers coming from the other direction needed to pay attention as well. Four busy traffic lanes make it difficult to see around other vehicles.

The boys may think they’ve won a moral victory, teaching — on principle —that they’re not to be pushed around. Their over-stuffed ego is not my concern. But I do wonder about the unmitigated temerity these young machos exhibited.

Friends might give the boys a high-five as praise for demonstrating such bravado. But in my old-fashioned way, I think it’s better to remain alive than to hold the honor of being a super macho while lying in a coffin.

Any such act in my youth would have earned us a whipping, deprivation of privileges and possibly months of grounding.

Apparently things are different today, and my heart races at the thought of the effrontery these youths displayed on a street where traffic moves fast. True, most motorists do anything to avoid hitting a pedestrian, even when the person on foot is wrong, or if the pedestrian ignores the crosswalks and exhibits that now-common I-dare-you attitude.

Still, we need to wonder: What if . . . what if Diana had lacked the quick reflexes that permitted her to stop in time? Would we be attending multiple funerals today?

• • •

My former Railroad barrio neighbor, Lawrence Sandoval, having read about the “Oremos” custom in the recent “Tradiciones” supplement of the Optic, said it brought back memories.

Lawrence, the youngest of several Sandoval siblings, said he used to participate in that ritual, each Christmas morning.

To review: Oremos, whichmans “let us pray,” is a practice of going door to door on that holiday and chanting verses in Spanish. Accordingly, the person being visited provides treats: nuts, candy, an orange or an apple. They exchange greetings, wish one another a joyous new year, and part with a cheerful wave.

I never went door to door. Rather, I hosted lots of doorbell ringers, providing the customary treats and greetings.

Apparently some of my memories of Oremos-ing lay dormant until Lawrence gave his take on the purpose of the yuletide custom.

“Some people said to us, ‘You’re begging,’” Lawrence said. But “begging” was the farthest thing from the visitors’ minds.

Rather, the visit was social, a way of greeting neighbors and wishing them a good year. Lawrence said it puzzled him when a resident referred to the visit as begging.

Seeking oremos — the same as going out trick-or-treating — most definitely is not a means of seeking subsistence so we can last one more day. Rather, it’s an age-old custom (out of fashion these days) that reacquaints neighbors on those festive occasions.

• • •

An iPod is an electronic gadget that stores voice and music. It’s the size of one of those Andes candies restaurants provide at the checkout.

Once, leaving an IHop in Albuquerque, I noticed the manager staring. He asked me why I was carrying three iPods on my lanyard. I explained, “One’s for my German lessons; one’s for French lessons, and one’s for music.”

I added that since the three are of a similar color, I often take potluck; when I’m on a treadmill at the city rec center, I don’t always know what’s on the menu.

The trouble with these tiny gadgets is that they’re usually losable. I’ve gone through several of them, after their spring clip weakens. I’m sure many an iPod has ended up inside a vacuum cleaner.

I’d been missing one of the iPods. Last week I took my car to Pino’s Quick Lube Center on north Grand for an oil change and as I was leaving, I saw the lost iPod carefully placed on the front seat.

Andy Montoya, who’d done the oil-change honors, apparently spotted the item before the powerful vacuum swallowed it.

They’re expensive. They’re losable.

An item that small would have been easy to slip into one’s pocket. But Andy made sure to place it where I’d find it. I applaud his honesty. And I hope that the next time you visit Pino’s Quick Lube Center you mention this to him.

And feel free to leave him and the crew a generous tip.

• • •

We gassed up in Santa Fe Monday, where some stations charge $2.08 a gallon, compared to the $2.49 going rate in Las Vegas.

• • •

If we torture people enough, can’t we get them to confess to anything? Well, Shakespeare, in “The Merchant of Venice,” said it so much better: “I fear you speak upon the rack / Where men enforced do speak anything.”

Memorize that, Dick Cheney!