Tis the Season

So, long story short...I DIDN'T have to wait too long to get the cast off. Fortunately, I decided to dump my old skewl Orthopedist and go with a Westchestah, neo-Ortho (read: $$$) who promptly (and gratefully!) removed my cast and whipped me into Physical Therapy. Even though I have a slight limp, it will go away, I don't need surgery and, the leg is healing great! In fact both my Doc and my PT are amazed at my speedy recovery. Not even 2 months since I broke the appendage and I'm walking without any sort of splint/cast/crutch, etc. etc. Okay...here's the thingy...

Although I've observed some way bad behavior (and not the sexy-I-wanna-fuck kind...more like the 'fuck you' sorta shit), quite frequently in this City of about a bazillion people and, which I now work in as opposed to actually live in, some good things like this REALLY do happen. But, I'll get to that towards the end of this post.

Interestingly enough, and although the weather was buck-ass cold today, I was stomping around midtown during a self-imposed mid-day break and with a smile on my face, observed how there weren't too many people reciprocating. Heading my holiday-happy-ass over to KMart for a reeeeallly cheap piece of electronics (a cheap-o DVD player, if you must know), I wasn't sure where to locate the device, stocked somewhere in the myriad of crap the store has to offer so, noticing a signature 'red' shirt, I approached him...

Say, uh...(looking at badge, pinned nearly sideways on his not-so-clean shirt and across one of his man-breasts) Jose, do you know where I can find a DVD player?

(smile beginning - tentative - across Jose's jowly face) "I...yeah...go down this way and take a right at the end of the row."

Thanks, Jose and have a great day!

"You too...thanks!"

As I walked past Jose's bulky, overfed body, his head swivelled on his triple-ringed neck, while his incredulous, crooked smile followed my movements as if no one had ever bothered to just be pleasant. I really don't think much about it, it's just the way I am and quite likely due to my living in the southern part of the U.S. for so long. While it's true there are a lot of rednecks and those with the 'kill for Jesus' kinda attitude, there are others who are well, pleasant and uncomplicated. I'd like to think I have some of that as part of my life.

Life IS NOT short...Life is fucking long! And, if you're a pain-in-the-ass kinda person, life's even longer.

NNNNN EEEE WAYZZZZZ

My whole point to this preface is this little missive I received today over the filament highway from one of those pleasant, uncomplicated people I count as 'friend'

THE LAST RIDE

Twenty years ago, I drove a cab for a living. When I arrived at a fare I was to pick up at 2:30 a.m. , the building was dark except for a single light in a ground floor window. Under these circumstances, many drivers would just honk once or twice, wait a minute, and then drive away. But I had seen too many impoverished people who depended on taxis as their only means of transportation. Unless a situation smelled of danger, I always went to the door. This passenger might be someone who needs my assistance, I reasoned to myself.

So I walked to the door and knocked. "Just a minute", answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor. After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 80's stood before me She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940s movie. By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets. There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.

"Would you carry my bag out to the car?" she said.

I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman. She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb. She kept thanking me for my kindness.

"It's nothing", I told her. "I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother treated".

"Oh, you're such a good boy", she said.

When we got in the cab, she gave me an address, and then asked, "Could you drive through downtown?"

"It's not the shortest way," I answered quickly.

"Oh, I don't mind," she said. "I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a hospice".

I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening.

"I don't have any family left," she continued. "The doctor says I don't have very long."

I quietly reached over and shut off the meter. "What route would you like me to take?" I asked.

For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator. We drove through the neighbourhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl. Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing. As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, "I'm tired. Let's go now."

We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico. Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous of us and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her. I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.

"How much do I owe you?" she asked, reaching into her purse.

"Nothing," I said

"You have to make a living," she answered.

"There are other passengers," I responded.

Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly.

"You gave an old woman a little moment of joy," she said. "Thank you."

I squeezed her hand, and then walked into the dim morning light. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life. I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk. What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away? On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything more important in my life.

We're conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments. But great moments often catch us unaware-beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.

PEOPLE MAY NOT REMEMBER EXACTLY WHAT YOU DID, OR WHAT YOU SAID, BUT THEY WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER HOW YOU MADE THEM FEEL.

Life may not be the party we hoped for, but while we are here we might as well dance!

Happy Holidaze!