Hello Goodbye June 6, 2009

When I’m lonely – which is often, and when I’m on the bus – which is always; I talk to crazy people. I’m glad laws prevent these people from isolating themselves in cars. Generally cars should be made illegal to bring people together and – like in kindergarten – be forced to share and cause a much needed spike in compassion that lasts beyond the age of eight, but imposing car-lessness on the world in the name of peace seems too deep a dive to tread. 

Often and always, and in between bouts of self-pity regarding not being born in the sixties, I find that I have much more in common with children and mentally handicapped people than I do with my peer group. Perhaps I’m angry at people my age because they weren’t born in the sixties either and I’m in denial and maybe because I am arrogant in that respect but the truth is such as I feel. 

On the 17, a man sidled up to me with an ear-to-ear grin and some untended drool, and asked me if I had any experience working with handicapped people. I said that yes, I had, and because one-word answers and disinterest is directed to people of a twentysomething demographic, I explained to him in my teacher voice that I very much enjoyed teaching disabled children and adults at my job. He maintained his discussion grin and inquired as to whether the people I worked with were physically or mentally disabled and then burst with excitement to let me know that he had a mental disability – could I tell? I said that I could hardly tell because I was enjoying the conversation and he was rather more articulate to engage in discussion than a grand majority of the people I acquaint myself with. He giggled like he was opening a birthday gift. “I don’t have enough time to tell you all about my hopes and desires and wishes and dreams because I get off in two stops,” he said, “but I wish I could.” I told him I wish I could listen, but that perhaps he would find someone else on another bus to talk to later on, and he agreed thoughtfully. “Should we know each other by name, or by face?” He asked. I suggested by face, because I am not good at pronouncing the L’s in my name unless I practice out loud a couple of times and because I never before had a friend I only knew by sight, so this concept interested me. “Okay!” He agreed, “We can just be hello and goodbye friends.” He waved as he alighted at Oak. 

So there we were – hello and goodbye friends who knew each other by face. If only people fitting nicely in the middle of bell curves could come up with something like that. Think of the things we could do.