I wrote this on my phone in November 2004:
$11.25 to bring small joys to people.
It's amazing what diversity you see at the bus stop. I road the bus into downtown today. There's good people watching on the # 6 East and West bus.
Each person has a story. Each individual has a different lifestyle and circumstances that find him or her on the bus today. I feel comfortable here, as though I'm connected to these people. We're all connected on this Earth.
It's a beautiful Fall Colorado day. The sky is a brilliant blue. A stiff breeze blows the gold, red and orange leaves form the trees. The leaves cover everything and mini cyclones swirl them around sidewalks, lawns and streets, announcing the soon arrival of a weather front from the east. Could the first snow of the season be on its way?
I meet Sug'z on the bus. He's hitting on the gal sitting next to him. He carries a ragged cardboard sign and a canvas bag full of CDs. He looks tired, as though he's seen and experienced a lot in life. SUG'z is a Denver rapper trying to make ends meet by selling his album: "They Call Me SUG'z (shoog'z)". I buy one for 10 bucks and he is gracious and happy. "You just made my day," he said to me, "I haven't sold very many. Thanks for the support." It's funky, edgy and unique.
I like it. It's made entirely in Denver, from production to packaging. There is a din of conversations around me. A woman sings a song to her daughter in Spanish. I think I hear two people speaking in Russian. An unruly child screams and cries for twenty minutes, saying the same word in Spanish between wails the entire time. Another woman finally quiets him by giving him a butterscotch candy. "Gracious," he says, wiping the tears from his eyes.
I pull out my MP3 player and load the U2 play list. I look out the filthy window at city life, each person quickly moving by, not taking time to see what's in front of them. They have a purpose. A destination.
The bus speedily turns the corner; everyone inside is violently thrust to the right. I see an elderly man running, his arms flailing as he hails the bus that's about to pass him by. The driver stops abruptly, again jolting people in the bus. He gets on, panting, and thanks the driver for stopping. He sits next to me with a groan, favoring his back and fishing in his tattered pants pockets for the fare. His silver hair was mussed by the wind and his blue flannel had definitely seen better days. His face was grizzled and he smiled a toothless grin. His smile faded as he pulled a packet of mints and a few coins from his pocket. I was watching him from behind the protection of my sunglasses when he turned to me and spoke, "Son," he said still short of breath, "I'm a little bit short on bus fare. Do you have 50 cents?"
I replied that indeed I did have the spare change. "I'll pay for you," I said, immediately pulling out my wallet and placing the dollar twenty-five in the fare collector at the front of the bus. I asked the bus driver for a transfer just in case the man needed one.
"Thank you and God bless you," he said happily when I returned to my seat. "I've had one hell of a day."
I offered him the transfer but he said he did not need it.
I arrived at my final destination and stepped off the bus. I'm fortunate to have all that I have. Spending $11.25 can bring a little hope and joy into the lives of complete strangers. I felt great. I skipped down the street, the leaves crunching under my feet, listening to U2, absorbing the glory of all creation.
Posted by RAD at January 28, 2008 7:45 PM