Over the river...

Saturday's in the Bronx- lovely. I had to go in to work today to help with some test prep for the little-uns. They are fascinating little buggers, always complaining about school, and yet they show up in droves to practice test taking skills? I think mostly they all just wanted to stand around at the back of the class in their baggy clothes singing along with their iPods, or playing their PSP. That's what they did anyway.


I got up far too early, headed out for a bagel, then went to get the bus up to the Bronx. On the way up, I enjoyed the sunny day through the window. Especially crossing over the Bronx is interesting.

When I was finished teaching, I strolled out to the bus stop to wait for the express bus to take me back into the city. There I encountered a little old man, who at first, just wanted to tell me about how the local bus had forgotten a child because he'd been sitting down inside the stop shelter. He thought it would probably take another 20 minutes for the bus to come now. I agreed. He then backed up against the fence with his cane (he must have been close to 90) to wait.

I decided to strike up the conversation again, and asked if he lived around there. He said "oh yes, for 30 years now". I found that impressive, and he carried on about how it was harder to get out now that he was alone. He had lost his wife 7 years ago, even though the statistics say that widowers his age only usually last 2-3 more years past their wives. He paused, then said "They say it's harder if you've had a happy marriage though. Well, it's hard if you were unhappy too, but not as hard." I chuckled a little and asked if he'd had a happy marriage. He said "ohhhh yes, we had a very happy marriage for 50 years! Well, except for two months!" "There were two months where all she ever did was criticize me"

I told him that I didn't think two months out of 50 years was that bad of a track record and so he told me about those two months saying "Yeah, there was a time when she didn't have many nice things to say to me, and after those two months, I finally figured out a way to stop it." There was a dramatic pause where I thought possibly he'd tell me he offed her in some way or something, but he continued. "I just decided to start giving it back to her. She couldn't take the criticism, and then one day she asked me if I wanted a divorce. I said NO, I love you very much, I don't want a divorce, I just don't want to be criticized. But, I told her, if it were to ever come to that, all I would want is my pension and social security. She could have the rest, the house, the mortgage, everything here (he gave a big sweep of his arm indicating the things that were in his house). After that day, she was so happy and content that we never had any more problems."

I loved that story, and I told him so. He seemed pleased just to be outside in the sunshine, enjoying the company of others. He coughed, and seemed as if he wanted to tell me more, but my bus arrived. I was thinking of asking him for a picture, but decided that his story was enough. I thought about it the whole ride home. I hope some day I have a wonderful story like that to tell. It wasn't perfect, but it was life. And even though he was alone, he had fascinating memories to share with me at the bus stop. I hope I meet him again someday.