Late to the gym, I blew past a crosswalk near Memorial. A woman waiting to cross called me the name of a rear end. Secretly I agreed with her and vowed to make amends. Now I take that route every morning, slowing at each white-striped intersection, and if a pedestrian is near, stopping for them. In the Northeast, where it's common to have pedestrian crosswalks without stop signs or lights, people cross in front of cars routinely, without even looking. Here, where courtesy is unexpected, I always get a smile and a wave. And I haven't been late since. – Fletcher Farrar, editor