I was driving home and was cut off by an SUV driver who decided not to make the left turn she was signaling from the left-turn lane and cut back into traffic. I slammed on my brakes to avoid hitting her, sending things in the car that weren’t bolted down flying. I blasted my horn – realizing as I did that it wouldn’t make a difference. A moment later and a collision would have been unavoidable.

There was an instant (before she made an illegal U-turn) that I made eye contact with her through the darkened windows of her SUV. I was looking for some gesture of apology – some contrition. I saw none.

As I drove a few more blocks and my heart stopped pounding, I thought about my seeking some acknowledgement from the driver; some human contact.

Sometimes, we shroud ourselves in anonymity. When we drive, it allows us to not be as courteous as we might otherwise be. When we walk alone, we can get lost in ourselves; sometimes for the better, perhaps sometimes, not.

As I settled down and parked in front of my home, I wondered about my own occasional desire for anonymity. A particular walk came to mind.  A few weeks ago, I was walking on 42^nd Street in the rain. It was a purposeful walk – probably a little rushed. A young woman interrupted my walk and approached me. “Excuse me, Sir, do you know where I can find the nearest organic smile?” I thought for a moment, realized… and smiled and my shroud of anonymity was lifted by that young woman.