Tuesday, January 10, 2006
Orleans...
I've been coming to the radio station for twelve or thirteen years, and wouldn't you know it, it wasn't until just a few minutes ago that I noticed that the name of the building above Grendel's, which is across Burnside, is called "Orleans."
I sat up all night with a wonderful group of my fellow human beings. It was a good celebration. It was a good prayer. I rode back and forth with my friend Cynthia. I realized the next morning, yesterday, my hat and gloves were not to be found in the bag I thought I had left them in. Yesterday, afterwork, I called Cynthia and found out before I could ask that I had left my hat and gloves in her truck. I had spent my walking commute without them to comfort me in the rain, not that the rain is really a discomfort to me, but I do like staying as dry and as warm as possible. They will probably be returned to me tomorrow.
Riding home on the bus yesterday, I noticed this one man in a suit. I see him almost everytime I ride the bus during the week. White men in suits make me uncomfortable, and he sits right in front of me. I take off my backpack and scarf, and set them at my feet. I lay my head against the window and half sleep. I wait for the bus to go over the speed bumps on 35th. I keep waiting for the twists and turns through Multnomah Village and Garden Home Rd. I raise my head and notice that the bus is turning onto Oleson Rd., three stops past mine. "OH SHIT!" I yell out and pull the cord, grab my pack, and hope it doesn't get too wet during the walk home. I realize as I walk through the parking lot of the DQ, that I left my scarf on the bus. "Fuck!" I say outloud, and realize I may never see it again. It was a gift from my housemate and friend, Heidi, so I was upset that it was now gone. But I had the funny feeling it wasn't. Statistics and practicality, however, dictated otherwise.
I get on the bus this morning, head for my usual back passengerside back corner seat, when I notice that across the row if seats is the white guy in a suit in the other corner. Before I sit, he asks, "did you leave your scarf on the bus yesterday?"
"Yes!" is said, getting excited.
"Is this it?" he asks, holding up a plastic bag with my scarf in it.
"Yes! Oh wow! Thank you," I say. I sit down, get comfortable, and wrap the scarf around my neck. I thank the white guy in a suit many times and imagine him with long hair, a tan, a beard and mustache, and lots of tie dye. It's possible.
Sometimes details mean something. What does it mean losing my favorite trio, hat, gloves, and scarf, and then them coming back to me? What does it mean that it was with my friend I lost my hat and gloves? What does it mean that I lost my scarf and a white man in a suit, none the less, returns it to me in the morning? What does it mean to them? It seems like a detail that should be paid attention to, but maybe it means nothing.
Many good blessings to all of you!
I sat up all night with a wonderful group of my fellow human beings. It was a good celebration. It was a good prayer. I rode back and forth with my friend Cynthia. I realized the next morning, yesterday, my hat and gloves were not to be found in the bag I thought I had left them in. Yesterday, afterwork, I called Cynthia and found out before I could ask that I had left my hat and gloves in her truck. I had spent my walking commute without them to comfort me in the rain, not that the rain is really a discomfort to me, but I do like staying as dry and as warm as possible. They will probably be returned to me tomorrow.
Riding home on the bus yesterday, I noticed this one man in a suit. I see him almost everytime I ride the bus during the week. White men in suits make me uncomfortable, and he sits right in front of me. I take off my backpack and scarf, and set them at my feet. I lay my head against the window and half sleep. I wait for the bus to go over the speed bumps on 35th. I keep waiting for the twists and turns through Multnomah Village and Garden Home Rd. I raise my head and notice that the bus is turning onto Oleson Rd., three stops past mine. "OH SHIT!" I yell out and pull the cord, grab my pack, and hope it doesn't get too wet during the walk home. I realize as I walk through the parking lot of the DQ, that I left my scarf on the bus. "Fuck!" I say outloud, and realize I may never see it again. It was a gift from my housemate and friend, Heidi, so I was upset that it was now gone. But I had the funny feeling it wasn't. Statistics and practicality, however, dictated otherwise.
I get on the bus this morning, head for my usual back passengerside back corner seat, when I notice that across the row if seats is the white guy in a suit in the other corner. Before I sit, he asks, "did you leave your scarf on the bus yesterday?"
"Yes!" is said, getting excited.
"Is this it?" he asks, holding up a plastic bag with my scarf in it.
"Yes! Oh wow! Thank you," I say. I sit down, get comfortable, and wrap the scarf around my neck. I thank the white guy in a suit many times and imagine him with long hair, a tan, a beard and mustache, and lots of tie dye. It's possible.
Sometimes details mean something. What does it mean losing my favorite trio, hat, gloves, and scarf, and then them coming back to me? What does it mean that it was with my friend I lost my hat and gloves? What does it mean that I lost my scarf and a white man in a suit, none the less, returns it to me in the morning? What does it mean to them? It seems like a detail that should be paid attention to, but maybe it means nothing.
Many good blessings to all of you!
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