The girls went back to school Monday. And the good news is that I got them there. But it wasn’t exactly smooth. After dropping off Big Girl on the Upper East, Middle and I hopped on the 96th Street Crosstown Bus to head to Preschool. Once on the bus, I swiped my Metrocard and learned that it was empty. I fumbled around my bag and pockets looking for another one. Nope. Asked the driver if I could give him a few dollars and he said no, that I’d have to ask someone for change. My little girl asked what was going on. Mommy is a mess, I wanted to say, but didn’t. Instead, I clutched her hand and flashed that everything-will-be-fine smile.
I looked around at the people on the bus. I fished three dollar bills from my wallet, folded them in half. I held them toward a pleasant-seeming middle-aged woman. Can I give you this and use your Metrocard? She refused the money and handed me her card. I swiped. As fate would have it, her card was empty too. She saw this and then proceeded to dump her purse on her lap, looking for change. For me. She didn’t have enough and I thanked her and told her I appreciated her trying to help. Because I did. What a nice lady.
I asked a few more people. No dice. Everyone was very responsive, but no one had change or a card I could use. And it was now our stop to get off. I had a fleeting instinct to sneak off the back of the bus and pretend none of this happened, but I didn’t. I held my babe’s hand and I walked up to the driver. I asked a few people and no one had change. Can I please give you this? I waved those three dollars at him. But he didn’t take them.
Instead he smiled. He not only smiled, but he smiled big. And he fixed me with his eyes, kind eyes, tired eyes. Don’t worry about it, he said. I will see you tomorrow. Go on.
And I did. I went on. Off, actually. But before I did, I paused and looked at him, really looked at him, this good man driving this big bus, and I said it, Thank you so much.
And as my girl and I walked that half block to school, I said something to her. That was a very nice man. Very nice. Mommy didn’t have a good card and he said it was okay.
She smiled. And so did I. And then we walked into school and she flitted off into a sea of friends, into a new year. And I came away from all of this, this utterly un-smooth morning moment lamenting my less-than-graceful reentry to real life, but also feeling wild sense of optimism about this city and this world. People can be really wonderful.
Yes, even New Yorkers.
Any recent glimpses of such goodness in your own life?
Thank you for this great start to my day. New Yorkers are the best people in the world. I have always gotten help when I needed it whether it was directions or a restaurant recommendation. Sometimes being a mess is great!
Yes, there is something important about being a mess from time to time and about letting our kids see us in these situations, too. I really do think that these are the often moments when we are able to glimpse human goodness. It’s interesting because I feel in so many ways that 2012 was a “Me Year” where I chose to focus on myself and clean up my act a bit, but now I head into this new year thinking about others. The people in my family and in my life, all of you out there reading and writing your own stories, the strangers who dot my New York City days. On some level, I want this year to be an “Other Year,” to turn the lens outward, to examine characters other than myself. I am excited about this. And that moment on the bus was profound for me. Maybe my less-than-smooth start was in fact the best start?
Alas, 6am. I have been waking up at 5am every day to write fiction and this has been so cool and good for me. Just spent the last hour with my fictional world and now, to pop over here and see this comment from you, and write these words in response, is a real treat. Time to shower and begin the day!!
Thanks, Pamela.
PS – I want this year to also be about New York City because I think there is so much more goodness in the grit than people think.
I would say *especially* New Yorkers!
I’ve had this happen to me three times on a New York City bus. I actually think New Yorkers are some of the kindest people. Tough, yes, but also very kind.
I had a glimpse-of-goodness moment early Monday morning! I hadn’t gotten the chance to go grocery shopping this weekend, so I went first thing on Monday. On my way in, there was a man outside asking for money for food. I had gone out with just my keys, my cell phone, and a credit card, so I didn’t have anything to give him. and I was in a rush. so I lowered my head down, said “sorry,” and shuffled right by him, without really looking at him. it bothers me when I do that. I feel like it’s somehow inhuman to ignore someone who’s right there, sharing the same physical space, trying to tell you something. but at the same time, I can’t bear to look that person in the eye & honestly say, “no, I don’t have anything to give you. there is nothing I can do to help you.” because ultimately, I don’t believe that’s true. anyway, so I went inside, did all my grocery shopping, and bought him a sandwich. on my way out, there he was, still standing there, still crouched over, still saying the same line over & over again, “do you have any spare change? I’m hungry.” so I pulled the sandwich out of the bag & gave it to him. he said thank you & tore open the package. a woman who had been walking next to me, turned to me and said, “I saw what you did. I’ve done that before. He’s a good man, that man.” two seconds later, an older man who had been walking behind me tapped me on the back and said, “I saw what you did. is that man always here? I’m going to do the same next time I walk by.” I think it’s funny that they both said the same thing to me: “I saw what you did.” It made me think about how often, in the hustle & bustle, I don’t always see what’s going on around me, good or bad. It made me think about how often, I forget that maybe there is something that connects all these millions of people, zipping by each other every second of every day.
An “Other Year”….I love that phrase. So simple, yet poignant. Following the Newtown, CT tragedy, a friend (who is the daughter of the school superintendent of Newtown and was on the frontlines of the horror and compassion that followed) suggested to everyone offering support to please perform 26 acts of random kindness, one honoring each of the victims. I obliged, as did many others, and it was profound watching this movement unfold and taking part in it. I promise you, that very kind bus driver found joy that morning in helping you and your darling Middle Girl.
I have lived in Chicago since college and my brother chose New York City for college and never left. Our family is keenly aware of the ups and downs of both cities. I always said that Chicago was the city of open arms – people in the Midwest are just nicer. And I stood by that theory until I was pregnant. In Chicago, not one person offered me a seat on the bus or the train. Ever. In New York? Pretty much any time I got on a train, someone offered me their seat. Such a small gesture, but it’s something that spoke monumentally about New York. It’s not as bad as the rest of the country makes it out to be … in fact, in many cases, it’s so much better than anywhere else!
Sometimes it’s these little gestures of kindness – even when people can’t give you what you need, but demonstrate that they want to – that go the distance to restore our sometimes-shaky faith in humanity. Glad everyone was so kind to you.
Aidan, FWIW you NEVER, ever seem like a mess at ALL. To me you seem to always have it together and I admire that since you have 3 girls and I know how complicated 2 girls can get!
Just before the holidays I had a similar experience on a bus and I had my little girl with me. However, this bus driver was the complete opposite. He went out of his way to make things difficult but thank goodness there was a man in his 70′s with a bag full of change and he helped my little girl and me out. After that experience it is REALLY nice to hear that there are nice and understanding bus driver in our fine city
Aidan, great story, and this actually brought tears to my eyes (probably an outsized reaction!) — I guess because becoming a parent has made me more frazzled – and thus more appreciative of these little kindnesses – than ever! (also, Laura, loved your story and that’s a really wonderful idea – how easy would it be to go in the grocery store and pick up something extra for the lady who’s always waiting outside?)
I don’t live in NYC anymore (I’m in SF) and though San Franciscans are “chill” and really warm and wonderful, I actually think New Yorkers can make some of the kindest grand gestures, perhaps because they all inhabit such a small space, they HAVE to learn to “share” to get by. But I recently had a similar moment here at home when the parking ticket lady waited for me to move my car from the street cleaning area because I was hovered there picking up my kid (and taking forever to strap him into his car seat). It was a tiny thing, but I raced off ticketless, feeling grateful to her…
There was this one night, during the year I spent back in Manhattan after college, that embodied the best and worst in New Yorkers for me.
I was a 22 year old working a minimum-wage job at Entertainment Weekly, covering crap that nobody else wanted to cover. It was unexpectedly pouring rain, and I was in a hurry to get to my boyfriend’s house from an utterly pointless event. As I bolted for the departing S train, I slipped on the wet pavement and my leg got caught in the gap between train and the platform. It was frightening. Had the train begun to move, I’d have been a goner, and not a soul reached up to help me. As I’m still here, you might imagine I managed to free myself. I boarded the S without a single soul even asking if I was alright. I still have a faded scar on my shin to show for the ordeal.
Cut to the 6 train. It’s late. I’m limping. I disembark alongside a 30-something (Oh, how old he seemed at the time!) gentleman in a suit. We trekked up the 77th street steps in silence. At the top, it’s still pouring and he turns to me and says, “You don’t have an umbrella.” I shrugged, “I’ll be alright.” He smiled kindly, “I know it might seem creepy for a guy to offer to walk a girl home, but I’m married and I promise I have no intention other than to see you home dry.” I thought about it for a moment, the cynic inside me wondering if he was going to stalk me or hurt me or kill me or… fuck it. I went with it, “You must be the only living gentleman in New York.” I accepted his elbow. He guided me the five blocks to my boyfriend’s house amid chit chat of careers and dreams. I thanked him genuinely and never saw him again.
The terrible of New York alongside the best of it. I miss my city with passion.
A mess for not having money on your Metrocard? You have to be kidding me. Don’t be so hard on yourself!