The Wheels on the Bus Go...

I love riding the bus. When I was in school I regularly took public transportation, but since moving to the boonies have gotten into the habit of driving everywhere. There’s something rawly authentic about the bus. It’s a reminder of the harsh realities facing people daily right here in Minneapolis and surrounding suburbs. Sure, you occasionally get stuck sitting by someone who reeks of smoke or talks your ear off, but that’s a small price to pay for experiencing genuine kindness from strangers.

This morning I turned around to exit from the double 16 at Moos Tower. An older Asian man pointed to the back door, as if he was concerned I was lost. When I pushed the door for it to open—it doesn’t move automatically—he made a pushing motion, as if saying ‘PUSH HARD!!’ It may sound corny, but I felt so loved and cared for by this man who didn’t utter a single word.

On the way home, an older bearded man plopped down in the seat across from me with his cane and backpack. “Hello”, he says, “How are you? Think you could move your stuff?” I moved my Chinese take-out as he plunked his stinky bare feet on the seat next to me. “What do you do?” I explained that I was a nurse and worked at HCMC. “I have Aspergers and have a hard time concentrating and want to get a PCA. Do you do homecare?” Laughing inside, I explained that I don’t but there are many people that do. His openness and friendliness, contrary to his proclaimed diagnosis, left me smiling as I exited the train saying “Have a good evening”.

Maybe if we all rode the bus once in awhile, we’d be kinder, more patient people.

Be well. Grace and Peace, Carolyn