A Slow Walk: The Answer to a Fast World

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Last week, I took you through our Tech Wonderland, where everything needs to happen yesterday. 

Today, I want to head in the opposite direction, with this decidedly old-school, ultra-analog thought: I like to walk slow.

When you walk slow, everything seems different. 

When you walk fast, you get where you need to go more quickly. It’s good for your cardiovascular health too. 

But when you walk slow, you see. You really see. You notice. You become curious. You’re inclined to stop and investigate. You admire. You record. You interact. You think. And you feel.

After months of observing unspeakably dreadful things happening throughout the world, you can feel yourself tightening up, your gut clenching, as you read comments promoting policies that lead to these horrors. In a way, you turn into a fist.

But if you just find a good place to be, a place where you can live in the moment, in your present surroundings, even in your own backyard, or down a new street in your town, a place where you can let go, feel yourself expand into the space around you, something amazing can happen — you become receptive again.

***

Last year, for a time, I had the opportunity to re-explore San Francisco’s North Beach, which I knew from when I lived in the City on the Bay decades ago. This year, I’m fortunate to be able to do it again.

And I’m noticing that I can walk the neighborhood and continually go deeper and deeper. Not following some online advice, but letting all my senses lead me. 

Let me share not a jaw-dropping example, but a seemingly banal one. Because life contains sublime surprises in plain wrapping. 

Sam’s Burgers is just off Columbus Avenue, which is the main strip of the neighborhood, and its block is not at all an attractive or otherwise alluring one; dozens of nearby blocks are vastly more appealing. No reason you’d want to stroll or linger here. Hence, I have yet to actually sample some of these places.

Sam’s, a tiny place that looks like nothing — a “hole in the wall” would overstate its elegance — advertises itself with a quote from Anthony Bourdain: “THAT is a good Motherf*ckin’ Burger! Top 3 in the World.” (But Bourdain ate at Sam’s in 2011.)

And next door to Sam’s is a place that… also looks like nothing. Legends Café & Creamery. And, though new, Legends looks like it’s been there forever — but which they say has some of the best desserts, including a dynamite Dubai chocolate milkshake.

I’ve noticed other gems on that block, though I have to make a few more passes over it before I gather the motivation (courage?) to go into some of the almost squalid-looking establishments. It occurs to me that we’ve become so accustomed to the sparkle, cleanliness, and faux-elegance of America’s chain establishments that we just don’t know what to think of anything a bit hand-lettered, misshapen, and that appears never to have been subjected to the ministrations of an interior designer. 

Further north on Columbus, toward Fisherman’s Wharf, you come to a place called The Italian Homemade Company, purveyors of small batches of inexpensive homemade pasta with a delectable selection of sauces. For me, nothing beats pappardelle with butter and sage topped with parmesan. 

If you go around 6:30 on a weekday, you might get cheap delicious pasta in minutes. But if you go at 7:00, you have to battle a long line. I find that useful intelligence because, unlike so many of my fast-moving countrymen, while I like to walk slow, I don’t like to wait in line (which would be, like, post-graduate level Zen). 

But I think a long line actually appeals to them, reassures them, because they don’t trust their own instincts; a line is a physical manifestation of the influencer phenomenon.

The Italian Homemade (despite its suggestion of a Ma-and-Pa joint) appears to be a small chain, so no wonder they have their act down. But most of North Beach is devoted to sole proprietorships that have been around forever. Many rarely boast a line, though I’d say the majority around here probably deserve one. They’re all wonderfully quirky. 

The owners of these little places are almost always on the premises and may just give you a piece of their mind — or perhaps a complimentary piece of cannoli. 

I also discovered that if I cycle through the various homey cafes on different days and times, I keep meeting different people who work there, and pretty soon everyone becomes more welcoming. 

One fellow, who seemed for a while quite gruff, has become almost charming. Today, after I complimented his haircut, he took the time to advise me to hold down the top of the tea carafe while pouring out the hot water. 

Now, you’re thinking: What does all this have to do with Donald Trump and the price of gas? 

Answer: Nothing. And that’s precisely why I like it. 

But okay, let’s get on with the show… 

Apparently, New York’s statewide ban on cellphones in schools continues to rack up benefits since it went into effect in May 2025, over some howls of outrage. From early on, students and teachers noticed that everyone seemed friendlier, happier, and more engaged. Living in the present time and place.

One official said that, for the first time in 12 years of working in schools, she saw students playing a card game in the hallway. 

Students, long distracted and disengaged, now actually pay attention and fully participate in class. To be frank, it sounds better than it did in the bad old days, when nobody had devices and many nonetheless tuned out — which is a mystery to me.

A survey also found that instances of bullying have declined. 

***

Feeling refreshed after one of my walks, I dared look at the news and came upon a horrific story about the front lines of the rapidly worsening Ebola situation — where superstitious and angry locals are attacking the medical professionals who are trying to help them. 

It reminded me of the anti-science, anti-vaccine politics here at home. And yet many Americans like to think of faraway places like the African continent as barbaric. Ha. Look in the mirror. 

Health care workers in the Democratic Republic of Congo are making do without the crucial supplies required, and even washing and reusing instruments and gloves that would normally be disposed of. 

Just when more expertise and additional hands are desperately needed — to save lives in the DRC and to prevent this deadly plague from spreading across the world — American Ebola researchers, who could make a huge difference, can’t go to northeastern Congo, the epicenter of the crisis, because Donald Trump cut their funding.  

***  

And finally, another personal note with wider reference: For most of my years managing employees and journalists, I had a reliable way to gauge which applicants thought well, communicated well, understood my mission: a well-conceived and executed cover letter. 

That’s all gone. Now, thanks to Generative AI, every letter is stellar. Everyone presents a deep understanding of the open position and the host organization, projects intelligence, confidence, wit, and insight. 

This is just one of the nightmare consequences of Gen AI, and it’s only going to get worse. We’ll have more and more trouble telling who is serious, who is capable, and even — Heaven help us — who is real. 

The only good news I can think of is that, as with turning off cell phones in classrooms and engaging directly, we’ll have to actually meet people, talk with them one-on-one, and see for ourselves what they’re made of. 

Someday, perhaps we will all realize that Life Is Elsewhere was merely a novel by Milan Kundera, and that life was never elsewhere at all.