Subway observations and Melancholy

Here I am, just passing through the heart of a New England winter. Crusty snow melts at erratic intervals, the landscape is brown and gray, and people walk with their heads tilted slightly to the ground with furrowed brows and the hint of a frown upon their faces. We shuffle through our routines and we all have different means of coping, some healthier than others.

I occasionally put down my books when I'm on the subway. I'll shut off my mp3 player and just take in what is around me. I admit, typically this happens when I'm on a crowded train and there are no seats. Usually such distractions from the sadness that exists out there are welcome.

The other evening I saw an older gentleman sitting in a seat by the train door. Honestly I didn't really notice him all that much at first. He sparked my awareness when he asked a wealthy looking middle aged woman if she would like his seat. What was odd about this, was not the act of kindness or chivalry, but how unwarranted it was. There were two empty seats directly behind the woman who was clearly choosing to stand. I suddenly paid close attention to this gray haired man, seemingly oblivious to the situation. The action made me think of something I may have done in high school.

I was generally very jaded by the time I was in high school. I didn't fit in, and I knew my place. I could try to conform, and get along with the masses, or I could be myself and avoid the costs that usually follow a geek that tries to be liked. I chose the latter accepting that many of my peers had prejudged me without really knowing me. They just knew I was smaller than everyone else, was not athletic, didn't follow pop or sports culture in the same manner as the masses, and I probably seemed unhappy, which on some superficial level I was.

As a naive adolescent I occasionally had moments where my normal reservations would be thrown to the wind. I might try talking to someone who I usually wouldn't. It would be some girl I thought was cute, or some jock who I though that perhaps in the moment would relate to me and treat me as though I was an equal, and not something to ridicule to score points in a crowd. These were awkward moments. They were poorly thought out, foolishly optimistic, irrational, and unrealistic. Generally by college I had many of my growing pains out of my system, but I do recall one moment at my freshman dorm where its inhabitants were outside for one of our routine prank-caused fire alarms. A soccer ball was going around the group, some one lost control of it and it came my way up in the air. Instead of catching it and tossing it back-which would have been the logical thing to do, some idiotic part of me thought I could head it back, like I may have tried to do the one year I played JV soccer in high school. This extensive soccer record clearly made me skilled right? Ha! Of course not. I did head the ball, but it veered off at an angle sending it even further out of the grasp of the group that was using it. I don't know what childish part of me made me do it, but obviously I thought I could be successful, that I would impress people who I shouldn't have cared to impress?

That is what I saw in this older man. Chivalry was pointless, he needed the seat more than the able woman who was standing, and likely only riding the train for a stop or two. And truthfully, I don't know if he realized the foolishness and embarrassing nature of his question to the woman. All for the better perhaps.

He was aiming to please, the recipient of the pleasure with out a doubt would be him. The pleasure of being a good guy, of being better than the other people still sitting down, to be a good old fashioned, respectful man. I don't think he noticed that she could have sat down in another seat. He looked too sad, and too lonely to truly be aware of his surroundings. He appeared down on his luck. He was dressed OK, but he was a little disheveled. His black slacks had some dust at the bottom of the legs and his black walking shoes were poorly tied, almost like some of the teenage boys do now to broadcast to the world "I don't care".

The woman for her part was pleasant-she didn't look irritated or repulsed, but actually gave him a pleasant smile and said "No thank you". Following this he looked down at the floor in front of him.

I began wondering what his story was. He wore a wedding band, but some how I could not imagine him in his current state as being married. It didn't seem that there was someone out there waiting for him in a warm home, thinking of him, wondering how his day went. I pondered briefly if I was being an incredibly poor judge of character, but dismissed the thought. In my mind I thought of different scenarios. A wife that had long ago passed away, or perhaps someone had left him for a different path in life however, he was still holding this person close in his broken heart.

On a Green line train to Brookline yesterday I noticed a woman's eyes glistening. Her eyelids were pink, her face anguished, and her eyes wide and quivering, like a fearful character in an anime movie. Next to her another woman held her hand, her partner, her lover. It seemed to me that her words bore a gentle warning or admonishment, and that the crying woman she directed it at was becoming overwhelmed with growing fears of abandonment. I had to look away, obviously because it isn't proper to stare at such personal scenes, but also because I could feel the woman's pain and felt my own eyes well up a bit. I noticed as they exited the train, the composed woman gently guiding her worried lover down the stairs with her hand placed on her lower back.

Even with our human constructs, our rules, and structure, there is a level of chaos that can not be contained. The wreckage of emotional roller coaster rides, and the perilously delicate paths our lives shuttle forth upon seem that much more apparent this time of year. Perhaps it is the cold in the air, the dreary landscapes, or the long slug of unbroken scheduled routines that are all so prevalent. These, the defining characteristics of a northern winter, serve to further accentuate the delicate balance, the potential for loss, and ultimately our mortality.

I've always found it odd that our ancestors, most of whom lived in the northern hemisphere, decided that it would be midwinter when they wanted the "New Year" to begin. Perhaps it was more of a choice created around the desire of interrupting the monotony of winter. To me, the equinoxes either in spring or fall would be much more appropriate. But perhaps my preferences are merely a reflection of this environment in which I live.