Whatever else Benjamin Franklin knew (all things to all men perhaps), he knew himself best of all. He knew about a 'soulplace' perhaps more than anyone else in the past or present celebrity world. Yes, that's hard to define, because he doesn't address a physical space - not necessarily geography though he certainly knew where he felt best se home. It's more ephemeral: like the author of a new book called 'Ben and Me' Eric Weiner might define it: space in the head.
I'm on a bus, headed home Sunday to Capitol Hill from Adams Morgan. It could be any bus operated by Washington Area Transit Authority. One is transporting heavy bags of clothes and groceries, taking up two seats of the front section reserved, as the sign says, for handicapped and seniors. No one seems to care about signs. Another passenger, a man in a long robe and cap, puts his wares for sale on the seat next to him without regard for anyone needing a place to sit down. He is nonchalant - careful not to impose yet somehow commanding attention. His wares are small bottles - perfume perhaps?
It's not a long ride and traffic is not so challenging on a weekday night. When a man enters with an undisclosed package no one takes notice.
Nothing to apologize for. This winter season has been eratic on all counts. March brings spring so 'hope springs' eternal I think the saying goes. But only if it is your head to believe such things. Onward to the blessings of renewal. So to keep a modicum of sanity and balance in what is now a warring world.
Hence, this thought: Each day is its own opportunity for renewal in ways big (colorful, remarkable) and small. Though mostly in what is considered a small thing. So when I am on a crosstown Metro bus I can cherish the driver's spontaneous comment - a compliment - when I pay and she says 'I like your pin.' I am overjoyed: This is a connection between two strangers that is outright positive.
No reason that she should interact with a passenger at all, secluded safely between her heavy plastic shield (with an opening on one side). I am thrilled for no real reason other than she was reaching out. My pin is a sparkly rhinestone butterfly covering the Patagonia label on the front of my down vest. "Cheap," I respond - making my return gesture to mean such a pin might be available for anyone. Then later I take my seat up front in the senior and disabled sections across from an extra large passenger - a few hundred pounds or so - and see that he is carrying a large sack containing the familiar label of petitions for signatures that enable a candidate to qualify for a race. We are connected in that way, too. This is the season to prime for the primary races locally. I've done my share of work in my Ward. The weekend market is almost a chorus line of similar entreaties.
'Only connect" was the much quoted slogan attributed to the English novelist E.M. Foster. Melancholy words in an era when it seems most connecting is done through automatic, mechanistic means. Seeming to prevent any real personal contact. Still, it's worth the effort though a person may feel hopelessly archaic and ridiculous when the stranger who is unexpectedly approached, responds with a look of puzzlement if not fear.
Or maybe the better word is
'engage,' any way, if a 'connection' doesn't quite describe the effort.
As a minor form of rebellion I try not to let the opportunity get away every day. So on a recent airplane ride, I managed a real conversation with two seat mates on two different trips.In neither case was the stranger immersed in the solitary exclusionary act of watching a video on their screens - thus it seemed not out of hand to engage. One easy one: Are you a native of (------ wherever the passenger has begun the journey or where he/she hopes to land)? In one case, a fit looking middle aged man in military dress was on his way to Hawaii to test his deep fishing skills, being a licensed outfitter for water trips on land. I learned a great deal about challenges to the sport, limits imposed by local government to save a species from extinction. (catch and release after taking the photo). On my return, the woman beside me was rapidly cleaning with a packaged wipe her seat as well as the drop-down board. Turned out she was a suburban Marylander interested in politics and the arts: both of my favorites as well. Yes, she would consider coming to a fundraiser for a Montana candidate running for the US House ...
Yes, it actually snowed in Washington. Ice came down (while numbers of federal ICE personnel went up). So it might depend on your ability to withstand discomfort how to respond.
....except who wants to remember the weirdness of it all. Government on a record number of shutdown days. Veteran employes working under fiat and not getting paid. Airline turmoil and endless to-ing and fro-ing.
It helps to take a break sometime, as this column definitely shows. Somehow a sense of a stalemate settled in while the Trumptrauma machine got into full motion.
Of more pleasant and nonconsequential topics: Previously the column had explored a part of the underbelly of Travellers Aid programs, especially at Washington/s National Reagan airport better known as DCA. And what the volunteers go through intermittently, who they are, and why they are....from a source who is on duty for three hours there nearly every Sunday night. Thus she recently reported: a man who had walked up to her and declared without preamble: "I want to turn myself in" (she called police, just in case he was a runaway from the crime or such). This week (we are in mid-month) another man addresssed her with the words "I think I'm going to faint." Nothing more than that. She had him sit (where exactly, since chairs are not usually available nearby) and called the medics who roam airport byways or else wait in an office of their own somewhere on the two and a half thousand acre space.
Another add to the stories some of these volunteers can tell: How a 16-year veteran volunteer met a woman saying she had left her mother at the airport and was going to drive away because "I can't handle her anymore." How the police and others had to deal with a probably partially demented older woman who had no idea what her daughter had done.
Few travellers might know the desks are completely staffed by volunteers but, even so, the cadre operates on professional grounds. Regular updates, security briefings, and yes even holiday partying. Of note, each year the airport recognizes American veterans brought in to the city for special commemoration from all over the country. Uniforms for the TA people are on order too.
SERMON OF THE DAY
A pessimistic view of Future Things is necessarily a defensive tactic. Far better is the notion of offense, no matter in what manner it is conceived, short of violence.
