Weekly 6 – February 6-12

He was dress in traditional navy woollen cap, duffel coat with toggle fasteners down the front, navy trousers and newly black shined shoes.  One could tell that he wasn’t one of those poor pensioners.  He started a conversation where he was the story teller and I listened.  At first I thought he was flirting but as the conversation lasted throughout the 30 minute journey he just wanted to talk. 

The OM meditation, I receive weekly struck a chore on stories.  It went on to say that  everyone has a story to tell if we take the time to listen. We hear stories of people in the news or read about them every day. We, at times lose track of the random stranger on the bus also who has a fascinating story about where they came from and how they got to be where they are. The sheer variety of paths taken in this life, from housewives, to CEOs, to homeless people, are indications of how much we can learn from each other. There are so many amazing life stories and the biggest dreams to be heard and it is up to us to take the time to to listen with joy.

As we travel through life there are many people on a path of wealth and privilege, while others struggle from day to day just to get by, like me, and both have great stories to tell. Each person learns lessons, makes choices, and develops a unique perspective, which only they can claim and share. Even two people who have had very similar lives will have slightly different experiences, leading them to a different point of view. Each person remains a treasure trove waiting to be explored. When we take the time to ask questions and listen, we find that every person has a fascinating story to tell and an utterly unique perspective from which to tell it.

While on Bus 88 to Tate Britain to take photographs of a particular tree with unusual branches, an elder man sat across the aisle from me at the front of the bus near the bus driver. From a sitted position he appeared to be 5’6’’ tall with a slender built.  As the bus drove down Regent’s Street towards Piccadilly, he asked me if I knew where he should get off for Vincent Street in Pimlico by showing me an address written on the back of a lottery ticket slip.  He stated that he had asked the driver and that he was on the right bus but he was unfamiliar with the area in which he was going.  I told him that I only knew of one Vincent area that was in Victoria [Vincent’s Square near Westminster Cathedral].  He said that it was not in that area.

Man: I’m going to this address.

Me: You’ll find it. The bus driver will help you.

I sat back into seat and face front.

Man: London has changed so much since I came here many years ago.  I can hardly remember what was there, all those new things in the windows [shops].  I use to work for Immigration checking in 1000’s of people every day for 35 years.  There were so many of them.

The bus stopped into Trafalgar’s Square, near the Canadian Embassy building, with crowds of people at the Chinese New Year’s celebration.

Man: Why so many people here?

Me: It’s Chinese New Year’s celebration.  It’s every year. 

Man: The bus will turn left up there [pointing towards Charing Cross].

Me: The bus will turn right into Whitehall at the junction.

The bus moves slowly with the Sunday’s traffic.  He looked to both sides of the street.

Man: I know where I am not.  We will turn right at the light [pointing in the direction Westminster Abby].

He stared off into space through the big bus window and would come back with more conversation as though he had to go out into space to get it.  I just smiled and said hum-hum, through the nose, between his conversing throughout the journey.  He was Italian from the sound of his accent.

Man: I am 87 years old and I have a few more years here.  I told my daughter that she is 50 years old and need to support herself.  I give her £50, £200, £500 sometimes but she does help herself.  Her mother left long time ago.

He went into silence and came back with....

Man: I helped this 20 year old boy in my community.  Gave him £20 many times to get him on his feet.  He is now a millionaire; invites me to his home. 

He went into silence and came back with....

Man: There was another guy that I helped.  He’s a millionaire, too.  Lives in Leicester.  Invites me for meals at him home.  He has a beautiful house.  He did very well.  He works in music.  He comes to London to see me sometimes.

He smiled as he slid out of his seat, holding on to the pole, moving towards the bus driver’s cabinet waving his lottery ticket with directions hand printed on the back.

Man: I use to tell her [daughter] to take care of herself.  Her mother left long time ago.  She comes and goes waiting for me to go so she can get the house. 

As the bus got closer to Tate Britain I started counting the stops.  I saw his street on the opposite side of the street and pointed it out to him.  He smiles with a thank you.  We got off at the same stop.  Off the bus he walked hurriedly towards for 30ish people and showed them his directions.  I followed him and walked him back the way we came to his street.  I felt that he was ashamed to forget but he walked with me and I stood on the opposite side of the street until he crossed over to Vincent Street.  

Man:  Thank you.

Sometimes we have to looking forward and upward to remember as times moves on and thank the good Lawd some can remember at that age.