More Cowbell

As I left my apartment on Friday morning at trot pace, both to postmark my taxes 4/15 and make up the 10 minutes I would be late to work, I approached the corner to the sound of a bell in rhythm. Turning, I noticed the musician—a man standing at his open window, no screen, directly above a bodega, proudly pummeling his cowbell. He looked as if he had gotten out of bed that morning naturally expecting a crowd gathered outside for his traditional cowbell symphony, a weekly rehersal for the Carnegie Hall gigs. As I looked around the others were trotting in time on their own paths to the subway, and I thought “Ok, Why not?”