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Nathan Converses With His Colleagues: V
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Traffic was crawling. Of course it was. From the moment the southbound express lanes close at 10:45 A.M. until the end of evening rush, I-5 south moves at a crawl. Michael Crichton once wrote that if aliens landed in Los Angeles, they'd think automobiles were the dominant life form; the cars here approach the city center slowly, as if a funerary procession, an act too reverential to speed up. We pay our respects to downtown, coming in from the outside with a sense of stately gravitas and wonder.
Which means there's plenty of time to have a conversation. If driverless cars and predictable travel times ever really do take off, over-trafficked corridors like this one will become oddly attractive. You'll have that much more time to fix your makeup, Skype with the relatives, get a nap in….
For now, chatting with my fellow colleague will do. An energetic and strong-willed mother of two who radiates positivity, I benefit from listening to her.
"I like your blog because you understand this," she was saying, referring to the impermanent nature of homelessness. Basically nobody's homeless their whole lives, after all. "Suffering as a phase."
"I like to share another angle of looking at these you know, 'tough subjects.' "
"Yeah," she replied. "Are they really tough subjects though?"
"True…"
" 'Cause if someone that people think is a drug addict, might just be going through a lot of pain,"
"And it's a short term solution,"
"Or, if they're in pain and they don't have food,"
"And they haven't slept, their mental ability…"
"Exactly. They're going to look like a drug–"
"Yeah. And in those conditions can we really expect them to be on their best behavior?"
"Totally. No way," she nodded, adding, "if they have that perfect storm of no food, no place to go, and no hope,"
"Oh I love how succinctly you phrase that. The perfect storm, those three."
"Yeah. Can we really expect them to…"
"Be nice?"
"Behave normally??"
"Of course not, gimme a break!"
I'm so grateful for reminders like this. I need them. Being positive in the realms of contemporary urban life is a decision I have to sign up for every single day. I've written about how compassion is disproportionately visible on the street, that respect has so much currency out here, that love reverberates and comes back in spades. All that is true, but it doesn't mean there's none of the opposite. The selfish apathy of survival can be galling, and the destruction– self-inflicted or otherwise– of what were once promising lives, the ugliness of despair manifest as hate, anger, fear… these are out here too, and sometimes I get disappointed by them. It's a duty to give love out to the world without expecting it back, but it can feel thankless.
I need the reminder, that we generally see only what we're looking for. That the negative energy lobbed in our direction is never about us but instead a ripple of their own life problems; and that the positive energy shared, conversely, usually is about us, it being a reaction to something we've done. I need the reminder that we effect positive growth not sweepingly but one person at a time, through the incredible impact of a single, respectful exchange. You bring out the good in people when you make them feel human again, and loved. That's the importance of being nice to this face. And this one, and this one and this one….
In your mirror they remember their better angels.
Which means there's plenty of time to have a conversation. If driverless cars and predictable travel times ever really do take off, over-trafficked corridors like this one will become oddly attractive. You'll have that much more time to fix your makeup, Skype with the relatives, get a nap in….
For now, chatting with my fellow colleague will do. An energetic and strong-willed mother of two who radiates positivity, I benefit from listening to her.
"I like your blog because you understand this," she was saying, referring to the impermanent nature of homelessness. Basically nobody's homeless their whole lives, after all. "Suffering as a phase."
"I like to share another angle of looking at these you know, 'tough subjects.' "
"Yeah," she replied. "Are they really tough subjects though?"
"True…"
" 'Cause if someone that people think is a drug addict, might just be going through a lot of pain,"
"And it's a short term solution,"
"Or, if they're in pain and they don't have food,"
"And they haven't slept, their mental ability…"
"Exactly. They're going to look like a drug–"
"Yeah. And in those conditions can we really expect them to be on their best behavior?"
"Totally. No way," she nodded, adding, "if they have that perfect storm of no food, no place to go, and no hope,"
"Oh I love how succinctly you phrase that. The perfect storm, those three."
"Yeah. Can we really expect them to…"
"Be nice?"
"Behave normally??"
"Of course not, gimme a break!"
I'm so grateful for reminders like this. I need them. Being positive in the realms of contemporary urban life is a decision I have to sign up for every single day. I've written about how compassion is disproportionately visible on the street, that respect has so much currency out here, that love reverberates and comes back in spades. All that is true, but it doesn't mean there's none of the opposite. The selfish apathy of survival can be galling, and the destruction– self-inflicted or otherwise– of what were once promising lives, the ugliness of despair manifest as hate, anger, fear… these are out here too, and sometimes I get disappointed by them. It's a duty to give love out to the world without expecting it back, but it can feel thankless.
I need the reminder, that we generally see only what we're looking for. That the negative energy lobbed in our direction is never about us but instead a ripple of their own life problems; and that the positive energy shared, conversely, usually is about us, it being a reaction to something we've done. I need the reminder that we effect positive growth not sweepingly but one person at a time, through the incredible impact of a single, respectful exchange. You bring out the good in people when you make them feel human again, and loved. That's the importance of being nice to this face. And this one, and this one and this one….
In your mirror they remember their better angels.
Oh, and in reference to your last line, I f-i-n-a-l-l-y finished the book! One of my lovely clients loaned it to me, and she was very patient with my slowness (and reading other books in between...) of reading and returning her book. Thank you for the reference to it, I think a couple of years ago. Although it wasn't a quick, easy read, it was well worth the time for the perspective--and long view--that he gives. I think it is one of those books that has helped to change my world view. I'd thought of recent views of things as modern generations becoming wimpy; now I consider that as we become better, our standards are becoming higher. That is a very good thing, and I hope it lasts. I'd love to sit over a cup of coffee with Dr. Pinker and listen to his take on how things have evolved in this country over the few years since he wrote the book.
Thank you. And I'm so thrilled you finished that enormous tome! How awesome! You're a better reader than I; I've not made it that far myself. It's a really remarkable piece of research that I think will stand the test of time, despite its unpopular ideas. He was here at Town Hall recently, but I missed it! Here's hoping to next time!
My Dad worked for Seattle Transit (pre-metro) and enjoyed his routes for the same reasons you do. He drove trolley in Seattle, as well as bus around Lake Union, Ballard, South Park & Highland Park, which turned into Carlton Park (that I knew of -- I'm sure there were others.) In those days, the routes were known better by names than numbers, and everyone knew my Dad, as "Eldon" or his nickname, "Wally." I liked riding with him (as a child, I had to pay, like everyone else, although I got to sit up front - and I had to be quiet, so he could hear his customers and call out his stops: "Jefferson", "Cherry", "Union", etc.) The busses were different, when only a seat-back and aluminum (it was probably stainless steel) frame-and-post separated the riders from the driver. I have his transit hat, with the pin, "443 Seattle Transit," but not the metal changer -- it was lost, when his house was cleared out after he died in 2004, at 91. I can still hear his clear, baritone voice, calling out those familiar stops.
I also am a CDL bus driver - school bus and tour bus, mainly - but I also drove one season, routed bid, shuttle transit at the Grand Canyon, and we called out the stops too, before it was automated. Those busses are all CNG, quiet and clean. We could override the recordings, as well, but the NPS contractor frowned on it - and they were religious about times, never early and no more than "3 minutes down."
Thank you! That's (positive) slide film underexposed by a third three times on the same slide, without advancing the film, and then cross-processed in C-41 chemistry to transform it into negative film, heightening the colors and contrast; basically, the composite is created on site, at the moment of the taking of the picture! Underexposing by a third for each shot makes the image add up to one correct exposure. You never quite know how it'll turn out. My parents are both painters, and this style of photography probably owes something to their painterly approach.
Thanks so much for your kind words! Really happy to hear of your Dad's perspective, and yours as well. What an exciting and beautiful time, riding his bus and hearing his voice calling out the zones. Sadly I came of age after the days of routes having actual names besides their numbers, but I do recall growing up on the buses with only the seat-back and frame-and-post as you describe. It all felt so genial and egalitarian.
Grand Canyon– WOW! Plus the rigidity of no more than 3 minutes down– I'd be failing that left and right, what with all that goes on out here! Yes, there's something I love about calling out the zones which keeps me really present and engaged.
Sounds like Dad lived a good long life. I'm so glad you took the time to ride his bus and live those moments with him.