A wave and sly smile from the UPS man who delivers our mail. The murmur to a friend: that is a weird thing to paint. The bicyclist who biked by, turned around and stopped and said: this is great, thank you! The old couple whose colors matched the pole we were painting: thank you for the colors. The baseball player that lives across the street to the northeast of us: a nod followed by: this is cool. And my favorite, a little girl who, while on a bike with her dad, took a detour to ask us Why is this pole yellow and that one purple? I couldn’t answer her. I didn’t know why this one was yellow and that one was purple. Her dad made her tell us the colors of the rainbow, and then they biked away.  

 

But my far more than any other is the question: why are you doing this?

 

I mumbled through the first couple answers. Umm, I don’t know, because there’s nothing else to do? Uhh, just for fun. Umm, I don’t know, I thought it’d be nice for the street. 

 

But now I just say: for you.

 

It always shocks me when people ask this question. Why are you doing this? It seems as if people cannot fathom why someone would paint something as boring as a telephone pole, why someone would waste their own money and time to paint something that they cannot make money off of, that they cannot brag about, that they cannot profit from. 

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The old people are our favorite. They almost consistently say thank you. Thank you for making a difference, for improving our neighborhood, for acting in the face of a crisis, for taking the time for someone who isn’t for you. 

 

This pole had a note on it that I just assumed was an old flyer. Once we got done painting purple we saw: paint this one zebra stripped. We didn’t, but we will. We have buy-in, neighborhood support. 

 

We have an audience, and they seem to love what we’re doing. Because in the end, we’re doing it for them. 

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