“The American dream”, a phrase that is seldom heard anymore, came to me as I prepared to leave for work.    For some reason, things were going along smoothly and I had plenty of time to catch the early bus and arrive to work early.  As part of my daily routine, I try to make sure my hair is moisturized.  Pouring the moisturizer into my hands, the “messy Marvin” part of me, took over and a large portion of the oil dropped onto the slacks I was wearing.  Ok, next the mad dash to get a cloth and soap to clean the growing spot on my pants.  After cleaning the spot as best I could, I then had to figure out what to wear as the previous outfit had been cancelled.   Needless to say, it took a few minutes to decide and change, using up the extra time I had before the spill.  Thus, Strike 1, a reason to…

Arriving at the bus stop, the early bus was long gone and the next bus to come just added to my disappointment after the unplanned wardrobe change.   First of all, the bus was completely full, no seats available with people standing in at least ¾ of the aisle.  But, today, amongst the large volume of passengers, a gentleman asked me if I would like his seat and today, and (I don’t know why)  I replied “no”.  Standing and looking over the passengers  on the bus, I took note of several things; young mothers with toddlers or infants with strollers that could be folded but weren’t, young people in seats with toddlers seated next to them in a seat, not on the lap of the person they are with, (these toddlers do not pay);  and the passengers who had spread out their belongings on the seat next to them to prevent anyone sitting next to them — looking at their phones preventing eye contact with anyone who may ask them to move their belongings.   I admit I have days when I challenge these people; today was not one of them.

Anyone familiar with me knows that this business of riding a bus has become a pet peeve and it changes nothing.  Most of the time I am not offered a seat, and the very day I am offered one, I decline.  I forgot to mention that not only did a gentleman offer me a seat; a woman also offered me a seat too.  Think about that!!  Humanity redeemed for just a moment.   Strike 2, another reason to…

The point of this outburst or sign of exasperation is because I feel that being a senior and no longer having a link to the “American Dream” has left me in a state of sadness and/or melancholy.  Exactly how long should one work? When does retirement actually begin, the day you leave the job you have been on for x amount of years or the day you wake up and don’t have to go to the job? Who determines what you should do now since you are home — Your children? What society says you should be doing, or can do, is it really is left up to you?   I know I have been told countless times that I should be glad that I am still working, that once I am home I will be harming myself if I do nothing, that I must keep busy at all costs. Most of this advice is coming from friends who have retired and are enjoying their retirement. Then there are the friends who “meaning well”, actually play it by ear and do what they want, when they want, and who actually have lots of days when they feel the need to do nothing — and do just that.

Here I planned to add Strike 3, but something happened that made me hesitate to call it quits just yet. Entering the subway station, I had maybe a three-minute wait and I decided to just put my earphones on and listen to my book.   Standing next to the bench, there was a young man sitting on the bench who looked up at me and asked me for some change so that he could get out of the station. Of course my first question was, how did he get into the station? He told me that he had come through the gate, (probably meaning that he did not pay).   In any event I dug into my wallet and gave him a handful of change. I have no idea of the total it would amount to. As I gave him the change I looked him in the eye and told him that if he were messing with me, someone would get him. (What does that even mean?) He looked at me, smiled, and as the train was approaching, I left him there and got on the train. I found a seat, and resumed listening to my book. Scanning the train and trying to be aware of my surroundings, I spotted a figure approaching who stood next to me in the aisle. I looked up as the same young man leaned over and said something to me, but because I had my earphones on and the audio was loud enough to hear over the train, I could not make out what he said. He then kissed me on the cheek and moved on down the aisle. That was the strangest thing or the nicest thing ever. I simply smiled, went back to my book and thought about how things happen and why.   I have to add here that there were several people who were looking at me, I guess wondering if I knew the young man, if some drama were about to take place, or what?

For some reason, that incident has stayed with me as I remember reading in the Bible that you never know how Jesus will appear (though the young man did not look especially shabby or destitute). My only regret is that I don’t know what he said to me before he gave me the kiss on the cheek.

So here I am, rethinking the actual time frame I plan to give up the joys of Metro and watch the world go by from my front yard or my window. Hanging on a little longer may be a challenge and I will keep you informed on how I am doing.