Thursday, December 1, 2011

Giving Thanks

It's been awhile since I've written, partly because I've been busy and partly because I realized there was just too much going on with the T for me to stay on top of it all. Let it suffice to say there will be a "gap" in my reportage, but c'est la vie.

Life has been a little different for me lately. Two weeks ago I traveled to Seattle on business. No, I didn't try the Seattle public transit system (I had only one free day, wherein I rode the Monorail, a shameless tourist). My point is, that week I commuted only two days. I flew on a Wednesday and came back Saturday, limiting my time on the Red Line to a manageable dose.

Then last week was Thanksgiving, so I only worked three days. I was indeed thankful to once again cut the commuting time short--and it was positively joyous to have four days off in a row and not have to travel anywhere.

In the coming weeks, with the holidays upon us, I should be taking some additional time off. It makes a huge difference; nothing is as bad if you don't have to do it every day.

In the meantime, on the Red Line, they have started busing people between Alewife and Harvard on the weekends. I feel sorry for anyone who works weekends and has to deal with it. I ran into my former colleague, who lives on the street where I park. She tried taking the T from Davis the first weekend of the busing, and it took her an hour and a half to get to Park Street.

The T is spending the weekends doing some fairly critical maintenance work. (I read one Boston Globe article wherein one of the authors of a report on the system said he wouldn't ride the T past Harvard because the threat of derailment was so real).

Of course, in typical T fashion, they really didn't give people much notice. Why should they? Ridership is booming, according to recent reports. If a few people give up in disgust, good riddance!

Red Line as Microcosm

On the T, as in life, there are all kinds of people, each with his or her own perspective. There are the runners, those who advance through the turnstiles and down the steps at a trot, with not a glance to the left or the right. Like racehorses with blinders on, they see little after the gates open save for their own approaching path and the reward awaiting at the finish.

Then there are the sprinters. They may approach the T stop at a businesslike pace, entering the gates without distress. But if they hear an announcement of a train "approaching" or (a bigger challenge) "arriving," they will dash like mad, knocking over small children or the elderly if necessary to join the runners and get on board.

The moderates seldom change their approach. They may walk at a good pace, but they do not bother to ever run. Is it their faith that sustains them? (I know there'll be another train right behind that one.) Or is it resignation (You win some, you lose some.) Perhaps they, like most moderates, are just too damn tired.

Dawdlers are rare. These are the people who seem to not be totally sure where they are going. They actually consider not getting on the train when it arrives, engrossed as they may be in whatever text-message drama or game is diverting them. (Now, where am I going? Ashmont? Or Braintree?)

Yes, it takes all kinds. And you cannot change any of them. They are what they are. Like our siblings and spouses, our friends and neighbors, they will soldier on in the only way they know how.