He is a big fellow, obviously someone who works out at the gym, runs, bikes, you name it.
Maybe 40, maybe a bit older, a white guy whizzing past me on his bike, only to hop off just past the downed tree that is partially blocking the bike path in South Amherst on a Sunday evening in April. I’m standing near my bike on the other side of the offending tree, binoculars pasted to my eyes, searching for the pileated woodpecker’s hole in a dead tree that I had been assured was just out there in the marsh.
I turn and watch as he begins unstrapping from his bike a saw, an ax and heavy gloves. I find myself asking him if he always carries an ax when out biking in case he might encounter a distressed tree. This makes him laugh, and he tells me that he had been running here in the morning and promised himself to return and saw this tree into submission later in the day.
He tells me he’s been worrying that someone might get hurt running or biking at night and he felt obligated to fix it before something bad happened. I am so impressed with this that I tell him what a good guy he is and that he is a good Samaritan for taking the time to do this. And then here he is on one knee, gloves on, sawing away. I decide to stay and watch this unfold, thinking maybe I can help him move it off the path once he’s got it cut up. But that’s not what actually happens.
Within minutes other path walkers and bike riders are stopping to watch this very unusual event taking place on their bike path and when he finally cuts through the first arm of the twin trunks and begins to pull that section away, four men jump in to help, leaving no room for me to lend a hand. I am taken aback by this – though, should I be? Has the world so changed since November that I have forgotten that human kindness also lives within us alongside that other darker part so evident lately?
They all work together to move the newly freed trunk safely off the path and I’m sure, as the four helpers walk or bike away, they feel satisfied that they have done something to contribute to the common good, maybe something they haven’t done in a while. But here is this man choosing to spend his time and a great deal of energy to remove this hazard to his fellow humans and they felt inspired to help, to participate in making the world a better place even if it is just in this one small spot.
Two more riders have now stopped to help, more “good guys,” a husband and wife and they stay longer. The husband takes turns with the original “good guy” sawing up the rest of the tree and finally clearing the path of it. And now they’re off on their bikes and gone.
It’s now my turn to ride back down the path to home, and as I do I turn and ask the sawing man what his name is. He smiles at me and I think even blushes a little, and says his name is Alan.
And when I ask what his last name is, he really does redden, making it clear that he wants no public recognition for his good deed. After a second he shrugs and tells me his name is “Alan, the good guy.”
Karen Gardner, of Haydenville, a retired computer programmer, is an avid bicyclist and nature photographer.