My New Commute - Character 5

I hopped on the full Metro to find myself standing, not a bad situation for four stops, but one where the need to balance the book becomes paramount. I wrapped myself around a pole and braced myself while trying to get through a few pages of text. I looked up when I found someone tugging on my sleeve. A small woman was trying to get my attention to inquire if I wanted the available seat. Since she seemed more in need than I and I had only three more stops, I gestured for her to take the spot. Graying bangs emerged from her colorful blue knit hat. She wore a parka of matching blue and sneakers to get about the slippery streets. She buried her face in the newspaper, having done her good deed for the day.

Why We Fight

This movie is profound. It looks back over more than 50 years of U.S. history, 50 years of my life, and traces the frightening evolution of the military-industrial-Congressional-think tank actions behind making this country into an arrogant superpower. It looks at all administrations who have participated in the tightly woven fabric of the American economy, stitched tightly together with superior weapons and superiority complexes. Couched in the words of Dwight Eisenhower, it moves through his heritage, both John and Susan Eisenhower, and pits the Republicans of the 1950s against those of today. It provides vignettes of the Johnson and Clinton years, so no party goes unscathed. It moves from Gore Vidal and the suave voices of lobbyists and news commentators to the naive views of the American population, an individual Army recruit, and a retired New York City policeman who lost his son in the World Trade Tower and now feels betrayed by his country's response. The movie was purposefully not released in 2004 so it would not be treated as a screed against the Bush administration. Most powerful in its message is the deception the government has shown in explaining its actions, invading countries and continents on some pretext of defense of freedom when strategic position, the bottom line, or oil pipelines are the raw truth behind the action: Nicaragua, Grenada, Bosnia, Iraq. Such a historical picture demands leadership and individual response, neither of which seems ready to provide a counterpoint to this moral wasteland.

My New Commute - Character 4

The homeless man at the top of the escalator is a faceless greeting to the day. He stands, or rather leans over, between the up and the down stairs, his graying hair askew, a ragged beard, his clothes in disarray, reeking as the daily commuters pass by. He often clutches a paper cup or a cigarette, but just as often his head lays down on the metal as if on a pillow. He is a test of my humanity. I hold my nose; I turn my eyes away. Yet I wonder - is he alive? how could he assume that posture? He does not beg, and I give him nothing, not even sympathy. He lives in this entry way with overhead shelter and a corner where a blanket is often thrown down. It is complex to understand the motivation and behavior of human beings, especially when they are so far removed from the norm one experiences. He challenges my compassion, but in passing him by I fail in my role as a Good Samaritan. There is a limit to my goodness. I have crossed the line between caring and callousness. My charity has boundaries. While I give him nothing, he gives me a daily reminder the privileges of my life have obligations that I have not met.

Political Fiction

Reluctantly I have read a series of books categorized as political fiction: Julius Caesar, Democracy, All the Kings Men, Advise and Consent, 1876, and the Plot Against America. Although I have lived in the political center of the world for almost 30 years, I have remained neutral about the actors in the real drama; they run for office, win or lose, and then begin running again. Although I respect the democratic process, I am not inspired by its mechanics. In fact, I have become rather cynical. I have seen one party after another succumb to downfall, including the Nixon and Clinton impeachment hearings, the influence of lobbyists, the shenanigans of our elected leaders. I have become jaded about the good intentions of all involved. These readings, however, have forced me to explore politics more broadly, looking at the concepts, the drive for power and the consequences of reaching the top. My own disdain has been reinforced; political success is a raw form of power, not to do good but to be in control. The readings have opened my eyes in several areas. First, women are not the players in these dramas. They make take on significant roles. Portia is a wise woman, and Lucy Stark proves strong despite her husband's dalliances. Women do not, however, thrive on the undoing of others. Their lives seem to be less focused on the game. Secondly politics seems entirely negative; the word is not used in a complimentary way. Lastly, it appears that I am not alone in being turned off by this field, and it is depressing that new - and good - leadership is not inspired to enter into the fray. Perhaps my surprise in the enjoyment of these politically based works - and all the Kings Men is a work of art - has led me back to the raw facts and a deeper understanding of politics.

Eye Contact - A New Contact Sport

Years ago when I worked in New York City, I walked from Grand Central Station to Bonwit Teller where I was on the College Board sales staff. I enjoyed the walk of fifteen or so blocks. I recollect that I never mastered the subway system so was probably avoiding the underground. It was a summertime stroll, sometimes leisurely, sometimes rushed to catch the commuter train home for an hour long ride. It was that summer that I began to try to catch the eyes of the busy, impersonal New Yorkers, who were always in a hurry, rushing to catch trains and make appointments. Eye contact was a contest I rarely won then. I now find myself continuing the habit today in Washington. I walk a brisk half mile and have ample opportunity to pass many people, often the same ones day-to-day. There are different reactions to my silent greeting. Many passersby do no know I am there. Some glimpse and do not respond. Others cautiously smile, and, as days pass, acknowledge the recognition. Today one tall man smiled broadly and greeted me with a friendly, "Hello!" For me, the personal exchange with women is more comfortable. Men, particularly when passing in the dark, imply more threats, more dangers where I do not want my glances to be interpreted as invitations. The game is fun and harmless. This habit came to my attention a few years ago. I sat at a table on an hour long ferry ride, a familiar transit, while my husband dozed in the car. I shared my table with another couple, and our conversation led to the discovery of much in common. At journey's end when I left them to wend my way below to the car deck, I was surprised by a driver who popped out of her car. A stranger, she had been watching me during the trip and claimed she had never seen a face so attentive. An unexpected compliment, especially from a stranger, lingers in my memory. The lessons of eye contact go beyond dailiness but can become a lifelong habit of listening.

My New Commute - Character 3

A small woman appears curbside, even smaller as one looks down and sees a shortened leg in a thick boot. Despite this impediment, she dresses in miniature, a full-length winter coat, a hat, and even matching socks above the regular and the adjusted shoe. She often appears on the corner and navigates across the street while there is still plenty of time left on the crosswalk indicator. She walks to the bus stop. This morning the bus pulled up; she cannot pick up her pace to get to the line, but she makes it. Perhaps, the driver is a regular who knows of her handicap. I continue down the next several blocks, made yet again grateful for my two healthy feet whose flaws of turning out ducklike at a young age and supporting thighs that were not ogle-worth are insignificant. To my surprise, I see the small woman ahead of me, crossing yet again another street. I realize the blocks I have taken in stride are more than a challenge for her. I watch more carefully. Does she work where I work? What is her destination? She walks with an irregular tilt to the door of MacDonald's. Is this her morning routine? A bus ride to breakfast.