Riding the Bus

I took the bus back to WES last Thursday, returning from a rally for DC voting rights (and a celebration of the 90th anniversary of the 19th Amendment, one of my favorites). I don't take the bus that frequently these days, but I always enjoy the experience. Even more so than the metro, the bus feels like the transportation of the people: families, office workers, teens, tourists.

This past Thursday we were joined by a preacher--or rather, by a young man who was definitely preaching. He was sharing his gospel, one I would describe as American conservative Christian. The main message was a personal relationship with Jesus and the possibility of salvation through that relationship.

This isn't my truth, but I wasn't bothered by his sharing of what was obviously important to him. I was more interested, though, in the reactions of my fellow bus-riders. The young man testified for at least 20 minutes, from the time I got on until he got off. The riders, who were I imagine from a variety of faiths and from no faith background, were...tolerant. There were a few sidelong glances, some subtle seat shifts, but for the most part people kept chatting with their seatmates, or reading their books. They sidled past him to get off at their stops, and stood up to let each other sit down, just as bus riders always do.

What struck me, then, was not the unusual situation of a bus ride combined with gospel revival, but the experience of witnessing human toleration for different behavior in a very condensed setting. My guess is that there were plenty of other people on the bus for whom, like me, this man's gospel was not exactly their own. But he wasn't intending to bother anyone with his words, and indeed he didn't. People managed just fine, adjusting their earphones as needed or listening if they cared to. In a time of incivility and division--at least as it's presented in the mainstream media--it was a little window into quiet respect for difference.

That day, the bus got me where I needed to be in more ways than one. So thanks, S2, and all your Thursday afternoon riders.

Changing Chairs

We're trying out some new (well, re-purposed) chairs in the WES library. The new ones are much smaller than the big, clunky ones we've been using...and as I sat in them today I got to thinking about how the big ones kept us just a bit further apart from each other. They even had wheels, so we could make a quick getaway!

There are so many ways we try to keep other people at arm's length. I especially notice this when I'm driving--I encounter so many people on the road, but encased in our own steel boxes I don't really see them at all. And how about buying groceries or pumping gas? We might murmur "thank you" or nod hello, but do we ever actually look into the eyes of the person no more than five feet away from us? The other human being sharing our space?

I came across a wonderful passage about the power of really seeing another person during my summer fiction-reading blitz. Like the best fiction, it starts out with the very particular and becomes a treatise on how to live. I'll leave you with it, from Alexander McCall Smith's wonderful Sunday Philosophy Club series:

"She moved away from the rug shop. A man inside, anxiously waiting for customers, had seen her and had been watching her. Isabel had looked through the glass, beyond the piles of rugs, and had met his gaze. She was sensitive to such encounters, because in her mind they were not entirely casual. By looking into the eyes of another, one established a form of connection that had moral implications. To look at another thus was to acknowledge one’s shared humanity with him, and that meant one owed him something, no matter how small that thing might be. That was why the executioner was traditionally spared the duty of looking into the eyes of the condemned; he observed him by stealth, approached from behind, was allowed a mask, and so on. If he looked into the eyes, then the moral bond would be established, and that moral bond would prevent him from doing what the state required: the carrying out of its act of murder."

Tomatoes: Pay What You Want

Driving around rural Maryland this past weekend, I saw the lowest-key farm stand: a card table on the side of the road, with a plate of tomatoes and a big sign reading "Tomatoes. Pay What You Want."

It was the kind of experience that makes us nostalgic for a simpler time, or a smaller community, where we had that kind of trust in each other. But two ventures happening now--and not in rural Maryland!--make me wonder whether we aren't more trustworthy than we give ourselves credit for.

Panera, the sandwich cafe, has opened a non-profit branch in Clayton, MO where customers are invited to pay what they can (and volunteer their time if they can't pay at all). Here's an article about it: http://www.bizjournals.com/stlouis/stories/2010/05/17/daily21.html. The upshot is that it's working--people are mostly paying what the items go for in a regular Panera, and sometimes popping in a little extra to cover those who can't.

Then I read about a completely free store in New York City, where people are dropping off items they aren't using, and picking up what they need. Here's the article: http://www.nytimes.com/2010/08/16/nyregion/16free.html?_r=1.

The sign at that store reads "Take what you want. Share what you think others might enjoy (not limited to material items)." Seems as though if we try, we can put up that roadside stand anywhere we want.

Marriage equality, one pop culture moment at a time

I've been working this week to get ready for the Big Commit, a marriage equality rally in DC on Sunday afternoon. The rally is bringing together a number of gay rights and advocacy groups, and it will serve as a counter demonstration to the National Organization for Marriage's One Woman One Man summer tour.

I love a rally--the flags waving, the music, the great speakers. But I'm also aware that in the end, rallies aren't going to change the hearts and minds of America. That's what we have People magazine for.

Earlier this summer, I picked up an issue of People (a favorite escapist read for me). One of the human interest stories was about a woman with a rare and difficult to diagnose disease. The article followed her journey from doctor to doctor, the toll it took on her professional life, the light at the end of the tunnel now that she's received a diagnosis. Pretty standard stuff, and of course accompanied by a couple of photos, including the usual shot of the woman in the hospital, hand held by her spouse. Who was a woman.

The fact that this article featured a same-sex couple wasn't even noted; not a single line about their status, their families' opinions about the relationship, nothing to suggest that it was the least bit unusual. Because, of course, it isn't. And that's what gives me real hope: when People magazine thinks your same-sex relationship isn't the interesting part of your human interest.

Here's hoping I'll see you at the rally, and that in a few years we won't have to rally anymore.