“I was walking my daughter down Mill Road in Cambridge to the playground at the end of the road one day. We passed a couple of girls in their early 20’s in short summer dresses. I saw a fellow of about 50 driving the street sweeping machine down the street look at the girls and give them a broad smile. They looked at him like he was dirt, giggled and strutted off. The look on his face melted from a grin to the bitterest of bottled rage. At the playground, while my daughter was swinging, I started singing the lyrics into my phone. Just trying to imagine myself as the street sweeper and trying to voice what he might have been feeling.”John Wheeler (226)