Eighteen years ago, I lost my Dad.
Usually, on this post, I would write something about his passing but in reflection, I want to write about something that I shared with Dad.
We went together to work for a number of years via public transportation.
I never was squeamish about walking to the bus or sitting on the bus and talking to my Dad while going to work. I am sorry to say that it was something at the time that I guess, I took for granted.In hindsight, it was a glorious time.We would talk about a lot of things, and Dad would give me a lot of his advice.I remember when I had someone steal my wallet out of my desk, and I was able to walk a few blocks over to where my Dad worked. It was a comfort to be able to commiserate with Dad over the theft, get a token to get home with, and know tomorrow would be another day.
As I usually would say about missing Dad, some things will never change.I am thankful of the memories that we shared through the later part of his working career.What a blessing it was, in hindsight, to have the time with him. Not a day goes by that I don’t miss him.
I miss you terribly Dad but will love you forever.
Or should I say lack of communication sucks?
People will text each other until the cows come home.They’ll Skype or face time basically for the initial novelty of it, but once it fades. so does the communication.I go on public transportation and look around to see that on a bus of 25 people, all but two are reading their phones.
Maybe it’s a question of people not being heard by the people they live with.Maybe it’s a question of people not being heard by people they work with.Maybe it’s a question of people not being heard by their friends.
It might be time to put the cell phones down, the tablet down, the laptop down, and talk and LISTEN to the other guy.
What do you think?
We had a little stretch of weather the past two days.
As George Costanza from Seinfeld would say “The sea was angry that day, my friends.”Well, we have had some angry weather here around quitting time. You go and join the rest of your fellow office workers waiting for a bus to go home.
Winds blowing,trees bending,rain starting,juggling of umbrella positioning so you don’t bang into anyone…get the picture?
Then,up the street,comes your bus.
You have never seen so many people get on a bus in a quiet and orderly fashion, so happy to be drying off in that cocoon that only public transportation can offer.No glares of folks whose toes have been squashed, backpacks swung around. Forget the fact the entire bus knows that we will be stuck on a major traffic artery for at least an hour to get home in this rain.
Thank goodness for the bus!
In-epta struck again this morning.
I went a few blocks on the bus when a supervisor called the bus driver over. It would appear that he had called the supervisor to tell him he had trouble with a ride mirror on the front of the bus. It was determined that the bus would only go another 10 blocks and stop before going on the expressway.
The driver was soft-spoken,and to everyone getting on the bus he announced how far the bus was going.Great. Except I figured I’d try to get the train. I needed to get to block 9 in 12 minutes and the way this driver was spreading the news, it was hard for me to be patient.
It paid off. I made the train with four minutes to spare….whew!
Every day that I get up, get washed and dressed, make the trek down to the bus, I think,” X amount of days left.”
What they should really do is like they do in prison-that is, give you time off for the sentence served. In my case, it would be the amount of time I spend in a bus on the Schuylkill expressway.It has gotten a bit better lately, as school is close to being let out for the summer.The bus in the morning currently is a little more civilized, and much quieter.
The parking on the expressway gets to me. I have never realized that the driving skills of my fellow city residents have gone so far down the skids.It’s the equal of the first snow of the winter and people getting panicked by the first flurry.It just makes me nuts.
It makes the sanity clause something I really am hoping to embrace once retired.
I have to leave the realm of canter city and go out to a suburban hospital.
Of course,I would only have a 22 degree day to go out into the wilds for. I
need to go because it’s a yearly visit , so there’s no excuse for not going.
My excitement just got wetted because it is the first time I’ll be on a bus
with THREE digits( meaning suburbia)
It’s the little things…..lol
When you are stuck living in a metropolitan area and have to rely on public transportation,
you really come to love summer, unless your bus isn’t air-conditioned.
Coming into work today, my neighbor and I discussed the fact that school was soon to start again
and how we had better take advantage of a nice quiet bus for a few more weeks.
It is not only students who carry backpacks, but the bulk of them seem to do and they always
seem to hit people on shoulders as they go by. Not that most are doing it intentionally,
but with some I wonder.Don’t kick me kid-I am not making you go to school.
When you are in a field like I am, and you are talking and listening to folks all day,
you have to learn early on to savor any quiet that is in your life.Granted when school starts,
most of the kids are quiet coming in because they are still sleepy.There are always a few that
are wired up from the night before.
I never had to put up with this on the train and oh, how I miss it. I sneak in 1 or 2 times a
week on it , either home or to work, and it is such an adult pleasure.Doesn’t make me miss my
token days at all!