The View From Nathan's Bus

Othello, Where the Wild Things Roam

3/25/2015

Rainier and Othello is not an inviting place. You know the landscape: one and two story buildings, mostly residential, with buckling and otherwise eroded and collapsing sidewalks. There's the auto parts store, with the owner standing just inside the doorway with his hands on his hips, shaking his head from who knows how many robberies; the Western Union exchange across the way; a Mexican restaurant on the southeast block, seemingly closed more often than open. Iron bars cover the windows of all these establishments and the homes behind them.

Then we have the famous Valero Gas Station (yes, capitalization is necessary), dominating the landscape on the southwest corner. In the same way the Morrison Hotel downtown isn't the Morrison without an ambulance parked out front, so too is the Valero Gas Station not the Valero without a crowd of guys and gals loitering in, on and around. There are men who more or less live here, dealing, fighting, drinking, and shooting their way through life in a manner far riskier than necessary. Tricked-out classic Oldsmobiles and American muscle cars roar into the lot, throaty and gleaming and oversized, trading people or goods with dilapidated Camrys and unwashed, decade-old Lexuses. Occasionally the folks residing will get on the bus, but generally most don't, preferring to finish their beer or light another joint, wait for a delivery, or continue a conversation or argument. The fluorescents of the gas station behind only dimly illuminate them as silhouettes in the darkened bus shelter, looming and receding in size, expansive figures in puffy jackets and sagging jeans, shuffling amongst a patina of litter their own in the making.

There are also regular working-class folk who use this stop to go home, and they leave the zone quickly, keeping their head down and walking in a path determined, away from this mass of unpredictability. There's a regular lady who asks to be let off thirty feet past the bus stop, and that short distance can be the difference between life and something ugly. These are places where a little bit of help can be significant.

Leroy was on the bus one evening, out for a ride, just to talk. A thought occurred to me as we pulled up to the great Valero.
"Hey, you wanna know something kinda crazy?"
"Wha's that?"
"So you see this bus stop right here, how it always looks really, super sketch."
"It looks fuckin' terrible."
"Yeah, every time we come through here,"
"It looks fuckin' awful."
"It reminds me of being in South Central."
"I know, it's like Philly."
"It looks like a disaster."
"Yeah."
"And I used to drive up to that stop feelin' kinda apprehensive, a little bit nervous, you know?"
"Oh yeah!"
"But, the crazy thing is, and I just realized this recently. So I've been driving number 7 through here since 2009. But check this out. The crazy thing is, man, in all that time, I've never once had a single problem at this intersection."
"You serious?"
"Yeah, can you believe that? Look at this place. The whole time, every time I've ever rolled through here, never had a single problem with any of these dudes. It always, everything always just works out. They get on, I say hey. Can you believe that?"
"Uh. No!"
"I know, it's amazing!"
"Wow! Damn. Well, that's cool!"
"So, yeah. Go figure!"

I don't think it's possible to overstate how powerful kindness is. In a phrase or evanescent gesture you send so many messages– esteem, consideration, tolerance, appreciation, and the egalitarian, loving belief that we both have a place here, despite our significant differences... I've heard tell of some of the things that happen at this intersection, and seen their aftermath.

But somehow, this 7 has so far averted the disasters here. I greet them all as if they're friends of mine, and since I've been part of the neighborhood for so long, many of us really are friends, and they jump on happy to see me. The folks treat me as they are treated, and as the days turn to years we accumulate our mutual good works, dignity seeping through the cracks as grains of sand, something besides weeds buckling through that asphalt, our well-wishes and roundhouse waves building to a new kind of normal.

Note: follow-up to this post in partial response to the comments below, here.

10 Comments

Deb

3/26/2015 12:41:04 am

Your story reminds me of when I was buying a little house in, whille not the roughest, but still kind of rough part of town--the Polish Village in Toledo, Ohio. It still had some Polish people in it, and there was the big Polish Festival at the end of my street every summer, but mostly it had taken a turn for the worse in the past few decades. I bought a house there when I was in grad school in my mid forties. It was cheaper than renting an apartment, and I had grand plans for graduation which didn't remotely come to pass, but that's a different story!

When I first moved there, I noticed that the folks across the street had a lot of very short term company. I didn't say anything or call the cops, I just managed to do a lot of work in my front yard and keep an eye out on things. One time there was a toddler walking in the street, and no one knew who it belonged to. So yeah, it was one of "those" neighborhoods.

I lived there for about ten years until moving out here. Anyway, as time went on, I relaxed a little, talked to the neighbors, walked and rode my bike around town, and surprisingly, I didn't feel that unsafe. In fact, one day I came home after work to find my back door removed from the hinges and leaning against the wall. That kind of freaked me out. I went checking throughout the house, and nothing was missing. The computer, tv, and whatnot were all still there. I don't recall all the details, but what happened was that there was a fire down the alley, and the fire department knocked to see if anyone was home. I wasn't, so they broke in to make sure no one was home. They were afraid the fire was going to spread. It didn't make it quite to my house, but they weren't wrong to be concerned. I found out later that my back yard was a great vantage point, so my yard was filled with all kinds of people, including news reporters and photographers, and the back of my house was open to the world! All those people from that neighborhood and possibly beyond, and all they did was trample my flowers to get a better view! I came away from that experience with a different, better view of people.

I'm not saying that there were no bad elements, but I found a lot of what you talk about all the time, generally good folks just struggling to get by. The grandfather down the street who had a job at a nearby railroad warehouse, and sometimes watched the grandkids so the mother could work. The mother across the street who kept her (rented) house and yard neat as a pin while raising two or three kids and working at the school. The tiny old Polish woman who walked everywhere with her little red wagon collecting stuff. And on and on.

As always, thank you for sharing your stories! I'm always anxiously waiting for the next one!

Nathan

3/29/2015 03:30:53 pm

Deb,

Thank you so, so much for sharing this. I had to read it a few times and let it sit for a while before responding. You express a direction and change of perception so much like my own, and it's comforting and invigorating to read about coming from someone else. The view you share here is one some people spend their whole lives never knowing about or opening their eyes to, for any number of reasons. I think the experiences and the view you write about contribute toward an understanding of humanity and life that is deeply beneficial to our mental health- more than just the (already great) fact of having direct, rather than secondary, experience informing your understanding of how certain types of folks behave, and how certain neighborhoods get by.

I was just listening to Martin Scorsese respond to the question of why much of his filmography concerns gangsters. He replied by saying his childhood in Little Italy, spent around such folk but not involved in their activities, revealed them to be humans like anyone else, with good and bad aspects, who genuinely cared for others and made mistakes, who took his friends swimming and helped his parents out, even as they went about their business- the point being, these were people too, it was the world he knew, and it was life as life is, with color and laughter and sadness and detail, much to observe and grow from.

Thank you so much for sharing. It's really great to hear!

Bekah J

3/30/2015 03:41:11 am

I think it really goes to show that the energy you give off? Your intention to look at everyone and really see them as people, instead of taking those stereotypically dressed to be thugs, as thugs is making the difference. You genuinely enjoy being nice to complete strangers. Even in areas where there may be a hint of potential danger, I feel like this lightens up the tension.
A LOT. Lol!

I know that I would be one my toes in a place like that, hand firmly around my pepper spray.

But you just...be.

Which is incredible! And makes me think of that area and that group of people in a much different light.

Thanks for the post!

3/31/2015 11:38:30 am

Bekah,

I'm really glad the intention of this article comes through. Yes, if I just talk to people as if they're people (which they of course are!)- it seems to solve so many problems before they even happen. Like when you confidently nod or say hi to a person you're walking past at night, sometimes that can vaporize the feelings of fear or awkwardness!

3/30/2015 01:42:58 pm

Sometimes it helps to just listen. This is another story from Toledo. At the local community college, I was working with two African American women, and we used to go to the park to walk. I noticed that one of them especially made it a point to say hello to everyone we met. If they wouldn’t respond, and most of them didn’t, she got belligerent. I was more inclined to nod if they nodded, smile if they smiled, but she got really upset if people didn’t respond to her, even if they were involved with a conversation with their walking partner. After several instances of this, I asked her what the big deal was; we were just out for a walk after all. I mean, she was really getting upset! Her answer has stayed with me all these years: In our culture, we respond when someone acknowledges us.

Well, I lived in a neighborhood with a lot of African Americans, and I started acknowledging people, simple things like eye contact or a nod. I was amazed at the pleasant reactions! One time I was on my bike, and again, I don’t recall all the details, but a black dude was coming toward me on a bike, and all I remember at this late date was that I was just a little afraid which was pretty unusual for me. But I just made eye contact with him and gave a brief little nod. I instantly felt both of us relax, and there was no incident of any kind. One of the professors at the university knew that neighborhood, and he told me that I shouldn’t be out walking or riding my bike. I ignored his advice, and I’m glad I did.

I really think that Bekah is right; people respond well to being treated like humans, and I think that you are right that the people who ride the 3 or 4 south of downtown are much more appreciative of that than the ones riding the 3 or 4 north of downtown. Which reminds me, !?When are you going to drive the 3 or 4 again?! I need a Nathan fix!

4/1/2015 07:07:24 am

Deb,

Thanks again for sharing! Love the detail in those moments. I'll remember your coworker's words!

As for the 3/4, yes! My very good friend, who loves it, drives it and only it now (much as I only drive the 7/49 these days). We love the synchronicity of only driving our absolute favorite routes. However, I love the 3/4 almost as much as the 3/4, and when I ride it (especially on my friend's bus), I realize how much I miss it. Pretty regularly on the 7 folks will ask me about it. "Not drivin' the 4 no more?" they ask. "One day!" I reply. Last shakeup I considered it, as I espeically like the vehicles used on it, but my love of the 7/49 is pretty overwhelming these days. But! Who knows what summer shake-up will bring!

3/31/2015 01:50:14 am

Deb, that is so awesome!
What a testament. I so often forget that and become afraid.
I'll do that from now on!

4/1/2015 07:34:22 am

Deb! Bekah! Everyone else!

I continue to be thankful for your enthusiasm and instinctive understanding of the viewpoints espoused here– you two and so many countless others. I wanted to share an alternate view on this story- pretty much the last interpretation I could've expected!

One Mr. Ian Peter Golash read it on The Urbanist website (where my stories are also shared, amongst other excellent articles on urbanism), and really hated it.

Here's what he wrote:

"The comparisons of poor people of color to wild animals to be feared (or maybe ignoted as harmless) are not a new phenomenon. Mr. Vass is in keeping with a long tradition of curious outsiders to the worlds of poverty and street corner culture, looking down their noses on them from their heights of righteousness. He is not the first to draw lines that don't exist between "regular working class folk" and those marginalized souls that share the space with them. The humanity of all of these people surprises people like Mr. Vass. That is not surprising at all."

Here's how I replied:

"Mr. Golash, thank you for your interest. You make a number of assumptions in your reply, each of which I'd like to respond to directly.

I am intrigued by your interpretation of the title and its reference to people of color, as race and/or skin color are not mentioned in the article. Neither is there any conflation of people with animals ("wild things," mind, not wild animals) in the post. The term "wild things," as used here, has no intended negative connotation, and was chosen as a phrase to indicate an environment or attitude(s) which are not tame or docile. To be honest, I was thinking of the Hendrix tune!

Additionally, I must clarify your assumption of my being an outsider to the events I describe. As a person of color who is from South Central LA, who has lived in poverty and is no stranger to homelessness, I feel qualified to make the observations above, beyond the more immediate qualification of spending my entire workweek (and more) in the Valley and developing friendships with many of the folks who live there.

As for the suggestion that lines don't exist between folks with legal jobs and those involved in illegal activities, you are correct in implying both groups possess equal humanity, but incorrect in suggesting there's no difference in behavior. As I have learned the hard way, one group is rather more likely to thrust a gun in your face.

Furthermore, I make no mention of being surprised by the humanity at this intersection. Their actions are described without judgment. Were you more familiar with my writing, you would know these are the people and spaces I prefer spending time in. Here, I simply point out that the folks choose not to cause trouble on my bus, and given the amount of other issues I happen to know take place here on other drivers' buses, this is a pleasant surprise. I should also mention that my friend in the post, Leroy, is from south Philly. The concluding point of the post is that appearances can be misleading, and that courteous behavior has traction everywhere.

I have done quite a bit of writing on this and similar subjects, on The Urbanist, my own site, and elsewhere. Perhaps it would have been prudent of me to more explicitly state what would be obvious if the reader were familiar with even a small amount of my writing, or if they had ridden my bus. I tend to avoid such restatement, in an effort to spare my regular readers.

Thanks again for your feedback. If it's alright with you, I'm going to post your words on my own site, as I think they would generate some interesting discussion over there."

That's just what I think. What I want to know is, what do YOU think?

4/26/2015 10:19:44 am

This is a reply to Mr. Golash: I have ridden Nathan's bus several times before he had a blog, and I have read all of his blogs. He treats all as fellow humans, and you know what? I rode his bus last week, just for kicks, round trip from downtown to the end of the line in Ranier Valley, back to downtown, over to the U-District, and back to downtown. Here is what I observed from the front seat by the door: People getting on, smiling--the whole line of them! You'd think they were going to Disneyland or something! People smiling as they got off. Nathan and passengers greeting each other by name! High fives and fist-bump greetings. The bus had a very congenial feel from one end to the other, in both senses, the length of the bus and of the route. Riding Nathan's bus is truly a wonderful experience; I suggest you try it and see for yourself. I have my own stories from his bus, so I know he's not making this stuff up or treating anyone with any kind of disrespect. Quite the contrary, in fact!

4/30/2015 06:37:56 am

Deb,

Thank you ever so much! It was a blast to have you there. I count myself lucky that I get to spend time with such a huge swath of so many great people! I wonder what Mr. Golash will think if/when he eventually ends up on my bus one day!

Othello, Where the Wild Things Roam

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