The Turnstile Man

In  Manhattan subway stations,  one of the exit turnstiles is made up of predatory looking curved bars.  I’m always worried that I’ll get caught in the mechanism if the person ahead of me goes through too quickly. Today, with my usual trepidation, when I was exiting the #1 train at 28th Street and Broadway, the man ahead of me -- a blue-collar, tough looking sort --  turned back toward me and with a shy smile,  assured me that he would indeed push the turnstile very slowly and that I had nothing to fear. My heart soared. How beautiful and reassuring is the kindness and goodness of strangers. Tennessee, you got it right.