I just had a lovely encounter. One of my favorite bus drivers. She is about 8 years older than me. A very sunny disposition. After spending most of the day alone in the church office, it was nice to be validated by another human. I smiled when I saw it was her.
"There's my friend!" I greeted her as I hopped on the bus.
As usual we talked a bit about the weather. And then, as usual she told me a story about her life. Which I find most interesting! Let me tell you, sometimes the impersonal, mind your own business in Portland contributes to one's loneliness and increases one's feelings of invisibility. These talks with friendly people- bus drivers, R from church who brings me flowers every week and sits down to visit for a few minutes, J the Sign Ninja, who said that putting up the sign is much more fun with someone there to help and talk to...
And all my students and their families. Our time together is more than learning piano. That is just the subject.
I guess what I'm talking about here is relationships. I said in yesterday's post that I just need to focus on my work. I was wrong. That is what makes me feel invisible. That is what makes me feel used -being seen for only my function.
I try to always be aware of the person behind the job: the bus driver, the barista, the food server. But sometimes I fail. Like the day I was frantically trying to make it to see my daughter and her newborn baby. By bus.
Oy, that was a long and stressful journey! She gave birth at Legacy Salmon Creek Hospital. Which is north of Vancouver, off of I-5. I have had good luck using public transportation to my daughter's house in Vancouver, but they live near I-205 and Mill Plain. Pretty easy trip.
But when I got the call that my granddaughter had arrived, I panicked. My heart was racing. I grabbed an overnight bag and put the address of the hospital into the bus transit tracker on my phone. I would have to take the Max downtown and then hop on the express bus to Vancouver. I had read on the C-Tran site (the Vancouver bus line), that Tri-Met passes were honored on their buses.
I had a rude awakening.
I was feeling so excited to see my daughter and my granddaughter! I hopped on a bus to the Max station. Max was just getting ready to depart when I arrived. I felt hopeful. Got downtown and found the stop for the express C-Tran bus over the river. He pulled up shortly after I got there. I hopped on, grinning. But the bus driver told me that Tri-Met passes were not honored on "express lines". Fare was $3.80.
Oy. I hadn't brought any cash! I feebly asked if they took debit card. He shook his head.
I asked if there was another way over the river. He told me to grab the Max yellow line to the Expo Center and then transfer to the nonexpress C-Tran bus.
So I ran up to the Max stop. Got on the Max to the Expo Center. Shortly after I detrained, the C-Tran bus to Vancouver pulled up. I showed him my Tri-Met pass. He nodded.
I told him I was going to Legacy Salmon Creek Hospital. He told me I needed to transfer downtown Vancouver. He told me the bus line.
So many transfers! My heart was pounding. I told myself to breathe. She had given birth at 3:05 p.m. It was now about 5:30. She was probably resting. Her husband was there. Nurses were there. Doctors were there. She was in good hands. I told myself I needed to stay calm. Not panic. I did not need to save anyone - only my sanity!
So there I was. Downtown Vancouver. I was waiting for the bus that would take me to the hospital to see my daughter and newborn grandbaby. I looked up at the bus stop and found the number to call to see when my bus would arrive. But, AACK! My cell phone was nearly dead!
That was what I had forgotten. I forgot to charge my cell phone! OY! I had my charger, but my phone had like 3% battery. And my mobile charge was dead to the world.
I could feel my blood pressure rise. Again, I told myself to be calm. I saw a bus approach. It was the bus to Salmon Creek!
I ran over and gleefully jumped on board. The bus driver looked at my pass and shook his head.
"This is an express bus", he said. "Tri-Met passes not honored. $3.80 please".
I seriously felt like was inside a nightmare. I told him I didn't have cash on me and that I was from Portland, on my way to the hospital to see my daughter, who just gave birth.
"Is there another, nonexpress bus to the hospital?"
"Grab that one in front of me", he pointed.
I ran up to the next bus. It had just closed it's doors. I waved.
The doors opened.
I almost shrieked.
The bus driver was wearing a WWII style gas mask. (Oh, let me rewind. This was a very smoky day. Monday, September 5th. The smoke from the wildfires in the Gorge had descended upon the Portland are with a vengence).
But still. This sight will be permanently etched in my brain:
I almost turned around. But I bravely boarded and asked if this bus would take me to Legacy Salmon Creek Hospital.
The man in the mask shook his head.
"No?!" I asked, almost screaming.
He rolled his eyes and said, "NO!"
I told him I was on my way to the hospital, to see my daughter. Who had just given birth. What bus should I take.
He muttered, "You can take this one and transfer at the end of the line, to mprhye"...some kind of muffled bus line came out.
I asked him, "WHAT?"
He seemed to be seething inside of his mask.
He repeated himself. I think he said #19 at the end. But I wasn't sure.
I noticed there was a coffee shop across the street. I could charge my phone there and order Lyft.
"Maybe I'll just get off and call a cab", I said. "I don't want to get lost".
Masked angry driver said sarcastically, "You won't get lost."
So I got on board. I looked around at the other passengers, who were eyeing me suspciously.
I realized I probably looked insane. My hair flying, a big bag on my arm. Wide eyed, practically hysterical, trying to get to the hospital.
A lady sitting across from me said, "I like your fanny pack".
Oy. The fanny pack. So I have this little fanny pack with a window for my bus pass. And a handy loop to carry my water bottle or coffee mug! There was a coffee mug in it at the moment.
I thanked her. Then I smiled and said, "My daughter just had a baby. I've come all the way from Portland to visit!"
She nodded politely.
Then it dawned on me. My emergency was not there emergency. They were just going about with their lives. As usual.
I took a deep breath. I rode all the way to the end of the line with angry gas mask driver.
I was the only one left when he pulled into the transit center. I asked him politely if it was bus #19 that would take me to the hospital.
He sighed audibly. Through his mask. And nodded.
As I got off the bus I yelled "Thank you!" cheerfully.
I wanted to slap him. But I controlled myself.
Thankfully, the rest of my evening went up immensely. I met a lovely elderly lady at the bus stop. We chatted as I awaited the #19. My final bus. It arrived shortly. With a very kind female driver about my age. The elderly lady and I were the only passengers. We talked about the smoky air, the wildfires, my new grandbaby and I mentioned the masked man. The driver looked at me perplexed. "I've never run into him. How odd!"
I began to wonder if he even existed. My new friend got off the bus shortly. And it was just this nice driver and I. She drove me right up to the front of the hospital. A big, brand new, monstrosity of a building. She showed me where the main entrance was. I thanked her.
And then I met the Baby Burrito! My daughter and son-in-law never knew what I went through to get there. It didn't matter.
But today, it is teaching me a lesson. Yes, my emergency is not anyone else's. But I refuse to behave like the gas mask man.
Earlier, at my office job, the phone rang. A woman's tentative voice said, "Hello. I would like to ask you about your AA meetings".
I could have said, "They're not MY meetings. The AA groups just rent space here."
Of course, I did not.
I asked her if she was looking for the times they met.
"Yes," she said. Then she paused. I could hear her sharp intake of breath.
"I have a drinking problem"
Later it occurred to me that I may have been the first one she admitted that to. Imagine if I had been like gas mask man. But of course, I was not. My compassion kicked in. I sympathized. I told her we had several wonderful groups that met, nearly every day of the week. I asked if she had a moment, I could look at the schedule and tell her days and times. She said she did.
I told her all of the meeting times. She thanked me. I told her I would pray for her and good luck.
She sounded happy. I think sometimes we just need to be heard. To be validated. Her problem is my problem. When one person suffers, we all suffer.
And there is so much suffering in this world. The earthquake in Mexico yesterday, which at this time has claimed over 200 lives. And it hit on the very same day as the big one in 1985.
As I am typing this Hurricane Maria has wiped out all the power in Puerto Rico.
And in every corner of our world people are hungry, homeless, sick and oppressed. I will never have to worry about having nothing to pray about. And prayer keeps me close to God. Who comforts. He does not cause suffering. We have free will. But He can help give us strength to survive. And teach us how to care for others.
My heart feels good just now.
And now I'd like to continue my study of the bluebird of happiness.
There are many stories and legends associated with the bluebird of happiness. The oldest story comes from China, during the Shang Dynasty (1766-1122 BC). The bluebird is the "messenger bird of Xi Wangmu, the 'Queen Mother of the West' who began life as a fearsome goddess and Immortal." (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bluebird_of_happiness)
Native Americans also have tales of the bluebird:
"There's my friend!" I greeted her as I hopped on the bus.
As usual we talked a bit about the weather. And then, as usual she told me a story about her life. Which I find most interesting! Let me tell you, sometimes the impersonal, mind your own business in Portland contributes to one's loneliness and increases one's feelings of invisibility. These talks with friendly people- bus drivers, R from church who brings me flowers every week and sits down to visit for a few minutes, J the Sign Ninja, who said that putting up the sign is much more fun with someone there to help and talk to...
And all my students and their families. Our time together is more than learning piano. That is just the subject.
I guess what I'm talking about here is relationships. I said in yesterday's post that I just need to focus on my work. I was wrong. That is what makes me feel invisible. That is what makes me feel used -being seen for only my function.
I try to always be aware of the person behind the job: the bus driver, the barista, the food server. But sometimes I fail. Like the day I was frantically trying to make it to see my daughter and her newborn baby. By bus.
Oy, that was a long and stressful journey! She gave birth at Legacy Salmon Creek Hospital. Which is north of Vancouver, off of I-5. I have had good luck using public transportation to my daughter's house in Vancouver, but they live near I-205 and Mill Plain. Pretty easy trip.
But when I got the call that my granddaughter had arrived, I panicked. My heart was racing. I grabbed an overnight bag and put the address of the hospital into the bus transit tracker on my phone. I would have to take the Max downtown and then hop on the express bus to Vancouver. I had read on the C-Tran site (the Vancouver bus line), that Tri-Met passes were honored on their buses.
I had a rude awakening.
I was feeling so excited to see my daughter and my granddaughter! I hopped on a bus to the Max station. Max was just getting ready to depart when I arrived. I felt hopeful. Got downtown and found the stop for the express C-Tran bus over the river. He pulled up shortly after I got there. I hopped on, grinning. But the bus driver told me that Tri-Met passes were not honored on "express lines". Fare was $3.80.
Oy. I hadn't brought any cash! I feebly asked if they took debit card. He shook his head.
I asked if there was another way over the river. He told me to grab the Max yellow line to the Expo Center and then transfer to the nonexpress C-Tran bus.
So I ran up to the Max stop. Got on the Max to the Expo Center. Shortly after I detrained, the C-Tran bus to Vancouver pulled up. I showed him my Tri-Met pass. He nodded.
I told him I was going to Legacy Salmon Creek Hospital. He told me I needed to transfer downtown Vancouver. He told me the bus line.
So many transfers! My heart was pounding. I told myself to breathe. She had given birth at 3:05 p.m. It was now about 5:30. She was probably resting. Her husband was there. Nurses were there. Doctors were there. She was in good hands. I told myself I needed to stay calm. Not panic. I did not need to save anyone - only my sanity!
So there I was. Downtown Vancouver. I was waiting for the bus that would take me to the hospital to see my daughter and newborn grandbaby. I looked up at the bus stop and found the number to call to see when my bus would arrive. But, AACK! My cell phone was nearly dead!
That was what I had forgotten. I forgot to charge my cell phone! OY! I had my charger, but my phone had like 3% battery. And my mobile charge was dead to the world.
I could feel my blood pressure rise. Again, I told myself to be calm. I saw a bus approach. It was the bus to Salmon Creek!
I ran over and gleefully jumped on board. The bus driver looked at my pass and shook his head.
"This is an express bus", he said. "Tri-Met passes not honored. $3.80 please".
I seriously felt like was inside a nightmare. I told him I didn't have cash on me and that I was from Portland, on my way to the hospital to see my daughter, who just gave birth.
"Is there another, nonexpress bus to the hospital?"
"Grab that one in front of me", he pointed.
I ran up to the next bus. It had just closed it's doors. I waved.
The doors opened.
I almost shrieked.
The bus driver was wearing a WWII style gas mask. (Oh, let me rewind. This was a very smoky day. Monday, September 5th. The smoke from the wildfires in the Gorge had descended upon the Portland are with a vengence).
But still. This sight will be permanently etched in my brain:
I almost turned around. But I bravely boarded and asked if this bus would take me to Legacy Salmon Creek Hospital.
The man in the mask shook his head.
"No?!" I asked, almost screaming.
He rolled his eyes and said, "NO!"
I told him I was on my way to the hospital, to see my daughter. Who had just given birth. What bus should I take.
He muttered, "You can take this one and transfer at the end of the line, to mprhye"...some kind of muffled bus line came out.
I asked him, "WHAT?"
He seemed to be seething inside of his mask.
He repeated himself. I think he said #19 at the end. But I wasn't sure.
I noticed there was a coffee shop across the street. I could charge my phone there and order Lyft.
"Maybe I'll just get off and call a cab", I said. "I don't want to get lost".
Masked angry driver said sarcastically, "You won't get lost."
So I got on board. I looked around at the other passengers, who were eyeing me suspciously.
I realized I probably looked insane. My hair flying, a big bag on my arm. Wide eyed, practically hysterical, trying to get to the hospital.
A lady sitting across from me said, "I like your fanny pack".
Oy. The fanny pack. So I have this little fanny pack with a window for my bus pass. And a handy loop to carry my water bottle or coffee mug! There was a coffee mug in it at the moment.
I thanked her. Then I smiled and said, "My daughter just had a baby. I've come all the way from Portland to visit!"
She nodded politely.
Then it dawned on me. My emergency was not there emergency. They were just going about with their lives. As usual.
I took a deep breath. I rode all the way to the end of the line with angry gas mask driver.
I was the only one left when he pulled into the transit center. I asked him politely if it was bus #19 that would take me to the hospital.
He sighed audibly. Through his mask. And nodded.
As I got off the bus I yelled "Thank you!" cheerfully.
I wanted to slap him. But I controlled myself.
Thankfully, the rest of my evening went up immensely. I met a lovely elderly lady at the bus stop. We chatted as I awaited the #19. My final bus. It arrived shortly. With a very kind female driver about my age. The elderly lady and I were the only passengers. We talked about the smoky air, the wildfires, my new grandbaby and I mentioned the masked man. The driver looked at me perplexed. "I've never run into him. How odd!"
I began to wonder if he even existed. My new friend got off the bus shortly. And it was just this nice driver and I. She drove me right up to the front of the hospital. A big, brand new, monstrosity of a building. She showed me where the main entrance was. I thanked her.
And then I met the Baby Burrito! My daughter and son-in-law never knew what I went through to get there. It didn't matter.
But today, it is teaching me a lesson. Yes, my emergency is not anyone else's. But I refuse to behave like the gas mask man.
Earlier, at my office job, the phone rang. A woman's tentative voice said, "Hello. I would like to ask you about your AA meetings".
I could have said, "They're not MY meetings. The AA groups just rent space here."
Of course, I did not.
I asked her if she was looking for the times they met.
"Yes," she said. Then she paused. I could hear her sharp intake of breath.
"I have a drinking problem"
Later it occurred to me that I may have been the first one she admitted that to. Imagine if I had been like gas mask man. But of course, I was not. My compassion kicked in. I sympathized. I told her we had several wonderful groups that met, nearly every day of the week. I asked if she had a moment, I could look at the schedule and tell her days and times. She said she did.
I told her all of the meeting times. She thanked me. I told her I would pray for her and good luck.
She sounded happy. I think sometimes we just need to be heard. To be validated. Her problem is my problem. When one person suffers, we all suffer.
And there is so much suffering in this world. The earthquake in Mexico yesterday, which at this time has claimed over 200 lives. And it hit on the very same day as the big one in 1985.
As I am typing this Hurricane Maria has wiped out all the power in Puerto Rico.
And in every corner of our world people are hungry, homeless, sick and oppressed. I will never have to worry about having nothing to pray about. And prayer keeps me close to God. Who comforts. He does not cause suffering. We have free will. But He can help give us strength to survive. And teach us how to care for others.
My heart feels good just now.
And now I'd like to continue my study of the bluebird of happiness.
There are many stories and legends associated with the bluebird of happiness. The oldest story comes from China, during the Shang Dynasty (1766-1122 BC). The bluebird is the "messenger bird of Xi Wangmu, the 'Queen Mother of the West' who began life as a fearsome goddess and Immortal." (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bluebird_of_happiness)
Native Americans also have tales of the bluebird:
"The Navajo identify the mountain bluebird as a spirit in animal form, associated with the rising sun. The Bluebird Song is sung to remind tribe members to wake at dawn and rise to greet the sun:
-
- Bluebird said to me,
- "Get up, my grandchild.
- It is dawn," it said to me." (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bluebird_of_happiness)
- But my favorite tale is from the 1908 play "The BlueBird" by Belgian playwright and poet Maurice Maeterlinck. It is simply lovely and there is quite an appropriate moral that I can apply to my own life!
- Here is the story:
- "In the opening scene, the two children gleefully describe the beautiful decorations and rich desserts that they see in the house of a wealthy family nearby. When Bérylune says that it is wrong for the rich not to share their cakes with Tyltyl and Mytyl, the boy corrects her. It is enough that he gets to watch others’ happiness; their joy does not create envy in him. The theme is emphasized again when the children meet the Luxuries, particularly the biggest one of all, the Luxury of Being Rich. When Tyltyl turns the diamond, the hall is bathed with a dazzling brightness, and the Luxuries run wildly in search of a dark corner where they may hide their ugliness from the ethereal light. The names of such Happinesses as Innocent Thoughts and Seeing the Stars Rise and of such Joys as Being Good and Maternal Love affirm Maurice Maeterlinck’s view that true happiness lies in simple things, particularly in the warmth of family love.
- At the end of the play, Tyltyl shows what he has learned about happiness. He looks out the window at the forest and remarks how beautiful it is. The inside of the house looks much lovelier to him than it did before. Also, he creates great happiness for another by giving his pet bird, which seems much bluer than before, to the sick child." (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Blue_Bird_(play))
- This story brings to mind the end of the "Wizard of Oz" when Dorothy wakes up in her own bed, surrounded by loving family and friends. And she realizes there truly is "no place like home". Ironically, in the opening song "Somewhere Over the Rainbow", we hear of bluebirds!
- This blog is timely for me because I am on my way to my daughter and son-in-law's house to babysit the Baby Burrito. For three whole hours while her mom and dad lead the youth group at their church. This fills my heart with joy.
- I have found my bluebird of happiness!
- On that note, I wish you a happy Wednesday. May you find the bluebird of happiness too!
- Talk to you tomorrow.
- Love,
- Zita
- p.s. today was day 95 of my daily hooping experiment. I hooped in the rain! Hence, the foggy video. The plastic baggy I covered my phone with was green!
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