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Ode to Sheila
As I told you
earlier I’m a sucker for surveys, so every few months I find
myself answering questions about the commuter rail. I must admit
though that the train surveys are disappointing. Unlike the
other forms that I fill out that ask different questions every
time, the commuter rail always asks the same questions. They’re
only interested in whether fares have been collected, stops
announced, trains cleaned and whether cars are crowded. There’s
never a place for comments.
I guess I’m
not the only one who noticed the lack of comment space because
there was a note on this latest survey stating that they don’t
ask for comments because it would take too long to read them.
From what I’ve seen every morning and afternoon, we’re a fairly
placid crowd — no real trouble makers in the group — but you
never know what darkness lurks in the hearts of men. Especially
when you’re forced to check boxes even when they don’t tell the
whole story and there’s no room for additions.
For instance,
even though I check the yes box as to whether announcements are
made at every stop, there’s no place to tell them that those
announcements are not always understandable. So yes I can hear
the conductor saying something but I have no idea what he’s
saying sometimes. For all I know he can be telling me last
night’s lottery results. And as for the cleanliness box, litter
is lumped together with messy windows, so how can I tell them
that I don’t mind the occasional soda cup but not being able to
see out the window drives me crazy?
Sometimes I
wonder if they’ll ever ask us what questions we would like to
see on these surveys. For instance I would love for them to ask
me about the general ambiance of the stations that I wait in. I
would tell them about how a person could freeze to death at Back
Bay station in the winter and die from the heat in the summer.
I would also
love for them to ask me about the times when a train is delayed
for an hour and no one bothers to tell you why. Or why there are
times when all the seats are taken and yet entire cars are
closed off. But the subject that I would really like to get into
on these surveys is the ticket taker that rides with me every
morning and evening. I never see any questions about that. And
to tell you the truth, I didn’t really care about it until I met
Sheila.
Who is Sheila
you might ask? Sheila was the lovely ticket taker who rode in my
car each morning and evening. Every day at 7:08, sunny, rainy,
hot, freezing, tsunamis or locusts, she would open the car doors
and call out, “Good morning everyone!” And I would always smile
back and answer, “Good morning,” even if it wasn’t. In the
beginning I would just listen to her conversations with
passengers, as she asked after them and their families, or
laughed at a joke or simply listened to a passenger’s problem. I
actually found myself envying the people she spoke with. Then
one day after checking my pass she said, “I’ve noticed that you
ride the train everyday. Let me introduce myself; my name is
Sheila.”
I happily told
her my name and then every day after that we spoke and usually
laughed a bit. When I got off in the morning I would wish her a
good day, then get on in the afternoon when we would both sigh
and say, “Another day, another dollar.” I found myself looking
forward to her cheer in the dark mornings and on the days when
she wasn’t there I felt bereft. Eventually I told her that I
managed a GED program in Boston and we would talk about that.
When she was talking to other passengers I found myself
listening to her talk about her kids and her holiday plans and
the time she went to pick her sister up at the airport.
During the
Christmas season when I was buying chocolate gifts for friends
and co-workers I suddenly knew that I wanted to get something
for Sheila too. I was almost afraid that she would think I was
silly — I mean, who buys gifts for their ticket taker? But then
I realized that she made my day brighter than most of the people
I ran into everyday. Luckily the gift made her happy, and I
found myself smiling even more.
Then a couple
of weeks ago, after our usual exchange of good mornings, she
told me that she felt like a change and would be switching to a
different shift. I felt a sharp stab of sadness as I told her
goodbye, telling her that I hoped she’d come back soon. But it
wasn’t until the next day and the next and the one after that,
that I really knew how much I missed her. I never knew her last
name, where she lived, her favorite foods, or what made her
happy or sad. All I knew was her warm smile and her friendly
good morning and that was enough. Enough to make me still miss
her, all these weeks later and to know that I’ll keep on missing
her during every train ride. Where do I put that in my survey?
February 4, 2010
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