1. It's easy sending something to everyone on the Internet.
2. It's hard (to resist) to send nothing.
3. It's very hard to send something to just a couple of people
Thursday, January 30, 2014
Monday, January 20, 2014
The Young Man On The Train
I guess there was a reason I caught the train I did tonight. When I got on, I noticed a young man, not more than 18 or 19, sitting across from me with his head down to his knees groaning. I thought at first maybe he just had a bit of too much something. By the next stop, it was clear. He was crying. No...He was sobbing.
The young woman to his left, my right, pretended he didn't exist. She was very uncomfortable. We all were, initially. The young man sat up. His inexperienced face was red and filled with despair. His fingers swiping his mobile phone, checking something, and not seeing it, returned to sobbing. One man moved away. The sister to his right, my left, took out one of her earphones (yes, he was sobbing that loudly). She asked him if he was okay. He said he was okay, and tried to man-up a bit. All the while, I'm really studying him now. I'm trying to figure out why he's crying. The young man asked her what stop we were at. She told him. She asked him if he new where he was going. He said he didn't.
He was dressed pretty well for was appeared to be a later-year, high school student. Based on his hair style and attire, and his comfort and easy in them, I would guess he was not from the city. He asked politely, and responded in kind. Nothing on him, including his school backpack was obviously, commercially branded. I decided I couldn't get off the train without connecting with him somehow. My stop was next, and my initial reticence was gone. When he lifted his head again, I let our eyes meet. I tried to convey that it was okay, whatever he was going through. Sometimes, a man for one reason or another needs to let it all out. Sometimes it won't be convenient. Better a cry on the train now, than taking out one's aggression on others later. He dropped his head again.
What could be that bad, I thought? Did he commit a crime? Did he get in a fight (I saw a dime-sized gash in the based of his palm)? It's a girl, I said to myself. It's gotta be a girl. It didn't matter. I started to say a prayer for him.
As the train slowed to my stop, with everyone now realizing this young man had something going on and watching, I got up. I stepped to the young man sitting across from me. His head down again between his knees; hand clasped behind his head.
"Hey," I said, then patted him softly on the shoulder. He rose slowly, and then looked up into my eyes. I told him, "Whatever it is, it's gonna be okay. You just hang in there. I'll be praying for you okay?" He said, okay, and then, thank you.
The young woman to his left, my right, pretended he didn't exist. She was very uncomfortable. We all were, initially. The young man sat up. His inexperienced face was red and filled with despair. His fingers swiping his mobile phone, checking something, and not seeing it, returned to sobbing. One man moved away. The sister to his right, my left, took out one of her earphones (yes, he was sobbing that loudly). She asked him if he was okay. He said he was okay, and tried to man-up a bit. All the while, I'm really studying him now. I'm trying to figure out why he's crying. The young man asked her what stop we were at. She told him. She asked him if he new where he was going. He said he didn't.
He was dressed pretty well for was appeared to be a later-year, high school student. Based on his hair style and attire, and his comfort and easy in them, I would guess he was not from the city. He asked politely, and responded in kind. Nothing on him, including his school backpack was obviously, commercially branded. I decided I couldn't get off the train without connecting with him somehow. My stop was next, and my initial reticence was gone. When he lifted his head again, I let our eyes meet. I tried to convey that it was okay, whatever he was going through. Sometimes, a man for one reason or another needs to let it all out. Sometimes it won't be convenient. Better a cry on the train now, than taking out one's aggression on others later. He dropped his head again.
What could be that bad, I thought? Did he commit a crime? Did he get in a fight (I saw a dime-sized gash in the based of his palm)? It's a girl, I said to myself. It's gotta be a girl. It didn't matter. I started to say a prayer for him.
As the train slowed to my stop, with everyone now realizing this young man had something going on and watching, I got up. I stepped to the young man sitting across from me. His head down again between his knees; hand clasped behind his head.
"Hey," I said, then patted him softly on the shoulder. He rose slowly, and then looked up into my eyes. I told him, "Whatever it is, it's gonna be okay. You just hang in there. I'll be praying for you okay?" He said, okay, and then, thank you.
Wednesday, January 8, 2014
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