he was having so much trouble holding on to his things. they appeared to be dry-cleaning and a number of plastic bags. the contents of these bags looked like they could easily be condensed into one bag.
he struggled to hold on to everything as well as a cane while sitting on the subway, i couldn't imagine what would happen when he had to move. i didn't see the dry cleaning at first he had so many bags, that along with his mismatched sweatwear.
made him at first look to be a vagabond type.
he wore many rings one was a large sterling silver star of david. i was struck by this, he was so frail looking and judging from the many holes in his ears and demanor either gay or oft mistaken for such. this could make him an easy target for the crunked up bigots who wander about the streets of brooklyn far out on the C train.
i remember thinking that the jewish star was something else that could brand him a target.
he was traveling alone.
at first i thought him to be in his late 60's then remembering my mother who looks 36 is turning 60, realized he was either much older or ill. he looked ill...
i thought judging from his age that he could be a surviving dinosaour of the early gay mens health crisis. one of the ones who made it long enough for medication to develop and keep them hanging on.
then i felt bad for stero-typing, but history is history.
he had a small mp3 player he was trying to figure out. it looked like one of those cheap ones you get for free when you buy a phone or sign up for a new credit card.
he seeemed very confused by it. it had those super cheap ear bud head phones, that the first time you use them you have to peel the wires apart like a chewy fruit snack.
he had not. after managing to get a bud in one of his ears, (which by the way seemed to require stupendous effort a cane and two bags were dropped in the process). "condense!" i wanted to yell, not malicously but because at this point of my 20 minute observance i actually started to well up with tears. any how he of course immediatly ripped the ear bud out while trying to put the other in as the wires were still stuck together.
he looked so sad. 10 minutes later he figured it out.
i just kept watching him.
i was thinking that he seemed so alone. was he going home to anyone? perhaps i was misguided and i should have applauded his independece at an advanced age, but all i could see was the aloneness.
maybe he wasn't unhappy, perhaps the wilted look on his face was just a side effect of having aged to the point that he had lost all tensile muscle strength in his face?
not an expression at all, just loose skin. perhaps he wasn't sad about his mp3 player mishaps, but just learning new technology.
i should not talk, i recently learned how to turn on a dvd player. i mean he wanted to listen to music and he did. i just wanted to condense his bags so badly, they looked like they were making him so weary. was he going home to someone who would carry them up stairs.
i became obsessed. i stared at this man, having my own emotional tornado.
was this a manifestation of a deep seated fear of ending up alone that i had never acknowledged? i have always been happy with my friends, never one of those girls who always needed a boyfriend.
we all know those, with in a week of breaking up with someone, no matter how long term the realationship they begin dating, they need that validation or they break.
i have found subtle changes in myself as i age, though i am open to a realationship should the right person come along.
i don't know if i was in that place before. perhaps despite my contentness with my social life as it is, and my lack of a sense of urgency to find a mate, i sub-conciously worry. worry that i will end up alone on the train?
that if i am ill or demented no one will notice... because i was content with alone. that i will end up truly alone. when everyone else couples off i will be left. noah's ark will come and i won't be allowed on, i will be left to drown. with everything i could be worried about i fear alienation at age 80.
that's bizzare, specificaly because it does not change my current lack of urgency.
so instead i watched this man, and hoped. i hoped that he had people that loved him and apprieciated his independance at an advanced age. hoped that he was not consumed by regrets. hoped that someone would show him how to condense his bags. i brushes a tear off my cheek as i did this.
crying on a rush hour subway. ironically when a girl is crying on a subway or bus it is very often assumed she is mourning someone who has left her. i was mourning someone i haven't met.
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