The neighborhood where I live is quiet. Neighbors look out for one another, and remind each other if there is a package by the door. There is a police force nearby, though there is very little that could be called crime. Officers are more involved with school speed limits, and helping clear branches from the road after a storm. 

 

But now that I visit Philly, I have met a slew of security guards. They are stationed by each door of the hospital, and in the ER. At night, when I need to walk between buildings, I call for an escort. The last two weeks it has been the same man. I feel safer walking beside him. He explained that he often does a double shift, which means a lot of hours protecting people like me. I felt a bit guilty about taking his time, but he was clear.

 

"You don't go walking alone." 

 

If I see him next week I may get the courage to tell him my name, in hopes that he will tell me his.  It is oddly personal, to be in the shelter of a burly man who knows the streets. I asked what kind of things he has seen in his eleven years on the job. 

 

"There was a guy trying to smash a bank window. I tackled him, and I wasn't even on duty."

 

Part of the effect these men and women have is that we can see them. It is probably a deterrent, to notice them through the pane. 

 

I hold to the notion that there are unseen security on duty as well. Angels walk beside us when we are afraid, and stand like a sentry to keep our tempers at bay. 

 

I even know some of their names.