Dear Linc,

A woman walks by with her important swagger: pant suit, briefcase, her Blackberry clutched against her face. Her stride is frantic but I catch her face long enough to see and speculate that she is middle aged.

“I tried to find that e-mail thread but it’s gone,” she huffs. “Let’s try Facebook.”

It’s really something how Facebook is so pervasive now. I wonder if Mark Zuckerberg thinks about that, about how he sat in his dorm room and can now say without hyperbole or hype that he changed the world. How Facebook is part of all of our lives, young and old and, yes, poor and rich. When the panhandlers can get time at the public library computers, they too are on Facebook.

It’s a nice day. Before work, I’m grabbing a quick lunch. I didn’t want to be at the store just yet. With my brown bag I wandered to the most convenient spot that was close to where I’d gotten my food, relatively clear of panhandlers, and sunniest. I’m sitting on the ledge of the square behind City Hall. Mid-bite, it occurs to me: We stood here for the World Series parade.

Mind focused only on lunch and the coming work day, I didn’t think about to where I had gravitated. Perhaps I was led. Perhaps God’s favorite sport is baseball. Perhaps if one covers enough ground then it something always connects somehow.

This “spicy” peanut pasta is disappointingly not very spicy.

Joe