Steady

In the phase of morning that I had once considered mythically early, I stood, strap-hanging, on the crowded bus. All around me the other early birds en route to school or work. Once aboard the bus, my only wish is for direct conveyance to the train station, so a minute irritation stirred in me when we pulled over at the next stop--for a few people who had been waiting as I had a moment before. As the bus pulled away, an older Asian man with a pronounced limped hirpled up and banged on the side. No response until someone informed the driver and the bus stopped and the door opened.

I've limped after running injuries--thankfully not after today's sprawler--so I vicariously felt the twinges I imagined he'd was feeling accelerating to catch the departing bus. Was the limp the result what the man suffered before he came to this country? Was he an immigrant like so many already on the bus with me?

At the State Street station half an hour later, I emerged onto the platform and moved into the crowd against the flow. As I did, I was struck by the fact: I was taller than most of the people around me. The school kids of course, but also the women and even the men, many of whom seemed Central American.What a surprise! I'm of medium height (but shrinking) and often, indeed increasingly, aware of tall young men (and women) around me. In the homebound train, for instance, some seem immense their heads almost touching the roof. Perhaps these people, like the students in my evening class hadn't gotten the youthful nourishment (or hormone-laced meat) that has made so many kids today so much bigger (my son!)

There you are, the early birds, a separate tribe, with a niche that distinguishes us from the later commuters as distinctly as one of Darwin's finches. Apart from the kids going to school unconscionably early, you on the bus, in the station at that hour are hard workers, steady, not world-beaters but world sustainers. I'm glad to be among you.