Yesterday I was coming home on my last commuter train ever EVER YOU HEAR ME? and because I get on at the beginning of the line, I always get a seat home so I have a great view of The Humanity. At Main St. a guy in a wheelchair got on, only it wasn’t a fancy, electric wheelchair, it was just a wheely kind that is powered by arms and he was kind of smelly, I could smell him from where I was sitting, a ways down the train, and there was a young guy, a not-smelly guy, sitting in the fold-down seat where the wheelchairs are supposed to have priority, this guy was popping his gum and looking around him, waiting for someone to challenge him, but no one did.
No one did and the wheelchair guy wheeled in as far as he could, the doors just barely closing around his back wheels and I guess he had brakes on his chair or maybe there were enough people to buoy him because he didn’t move a whole lot after that but he also didn’t get the parking spot to which he was entitled.
I stewed about this for the length of travel till the next stop. And at the next stop, the young man with the gum was thoughtful enough to get up and make enough room for one more person but it wasn’t the guy in the wheelchair, no, it was a young, attractive girl with fetching hair cascading down over her left eye. The wheelchair guy sat stoic, his eyes focused a few feet in front of him while people forced their way around him because he could not move. He didn’t seem to care. He seemed all too used to not getting any respect.
And I sat, with my great belly in front of me, displaying my fortune, my gold leather purse full of personal, unnecessary accoutrements and gifts from co-workers and my ears massaged by the sounds of my choosing. And most of all, I sat there with my self filled with respect; respect I have had since I was born, the privilege of being seen as someone worthy by society’s standards. Completely by chance, I was born into a life where I feel comfortable complaining about my privileges because I am equally comfortable that they won’t be taken away.
My heart broke for someone who has never known the respect to which he is entitled. Who grows to expect to be treated like dirt instead of like a human being. And who doesn’t know any different, at least on the train.
Quite a few months ago, there was a sleeping man on the train when we all got on at the beginning of the line, at the end of the day. He was taking up a seat and a half and he had a shopping bag in front of him on the floor which contained an open carton of milk. The empty train smelled of milk and sweat and stale cigarettes and dirty clothes. People got on the train and walked around him, sat at the other end, wrinkled their noses. I sat in the seat I prefer, which happened to be directly in front of him and thought long ride full of smell. Oh well. I like this seat. And then an older man got on the train and sat right next to the sleeping man. The older man was over 6 feet tall, with a white beard and a briefcase. He sat right next to the sleeping man and he said, “Sir, sir, where are you going today?” very quietly into the sleeping man’s ear. The sleeping man startled awake and said something unintelligible. “OK, then, you need to get off at the next stop,” said the older man. “Here, I will help you with your bag.” And he helped him with his bag, helped him to his feet, steered him gently to the door and guided him out at the next stop.
My heart broke in a different direction, that day. For good amidst so much bad and for people who see other people as people.
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