I really love public transportation. I love the communal experience, getting driven by someone else to where I need to go, and the thinking, reading, and listening that can be done en route. Today I was thinking of this old email I wrote to Sam back in the day, after riding the #6 in Austin:
**********************************************
On the bus I try to feel more. Sylvia Plath said that she was the “girl who wanted to be God.” I really can’t expect too much except to do well on my finals at this point, but…omniscience on my half-hour commutes wouldn’t be so bad.
It’s a sort of writing exercise without the pen and paper (of course, you can add those ingredients). When I was growing up, I looked at those few city buses in Corpus and longed to ride around one day…all over the city…with nowhere to go but inside the minds of other people.
It seemed so glamorous to me - to be without a car of your own or at least a ride from a friend or family member. In Corpus, public transportation is even more inconvenient with fewer stops and longer times between pick-ups. People who ride the buses in Corpus are always planning. It’s an especially Puritan life with the polyester uniform-clad Grim Reaper behind a steering wheel asking for your change, your transfer, a show of id.
So when I ride the #6 I try to remember that this experience is more than a childhood dream. It is the cacaphonous lullaby of bundled up infants. The formative years are a stop-go-stop-go heaving.
It’s the new town square. A town rectangle, if you will. The wobbly pillars of Eastside society gather to ask how so-and-so’s mama’s been.
The old preacher arches his brows and the saggy skin of his face flows with the tremor of today’s voiceless sermon.
The balding lady who picks up her granddaughter from school every day speaks in the annoying tones one only uses after having learned English through “Tiny Toon Adventures” episodes.
The man in the fancy hat and faded black pants spends another fifteen minutes of our trip talking to the busdriver as smoothly as if he were driving HER around to where SHE wants to go…
*I don’t think I want to be God - I don’t like some of the fan club. I think I want to be Gwendolyn Brooks.
Related Posts
- Holiday dispirited
- Attack of the NYC subway mariachis
- What I want to say…
- Go blog or go home: Figuring out what to blog about
- Writing, at least, doesn’t usually involve soiling oneself in front of medical professionals and family members
- Not blogged from a ledge - don’t worry
- Renewing my blogging vows
Hmm, Middle School Teacher? All that UIL actually led up to something. You ended up a teacher, and N. Lawless ended up an Architect. Sounds like he’s no longer your runner up.
Well, Miss Green, your location might have changed, but your still the small town honky with a small town background. Oh, btw, Chase turned into a damn good man. Too bad you could never see it over your upturned nose.
Hugs and Kisses!