There is hope yet!

July 6, 2008 at 2:07 am 1 comment

Yesterday, 4th of July, returning home I took the T (Boston’s beloved/hated-depending on what your experience with it is-public transport system. The ‘T’ is short for, I assume, the Train/ transport/ transit etc. etc.)

I was squished against the door by a very young, ridiculously attractive hispanic couple who seemed fused together and didn’t seem to mind the crowdedness at all. In fact, I suspect even if there weren’t such a crowd, they’d still have stood that way- like her head was soldered to his shoulder and his arm to her hip. 

Anyway, so, as I stood with my left shoulder buried into the frame of the door and the right hand groping for any sign of  a bar so I wouldn’t land on my butt the next time the T driver decided to brake, a 60-something year old, white-haired gentleman got on. HOW he found space to stand between my poor shoulder and the door is a mystery I am still trying to solve 24 hours after the fact!

So, as Americans are wont- correction: as caucasian Americans are wont-he greeted me (as though we’d known each other for years), asked if I’d been to watch the 4th of July fireworks and asked if I’d ever ridden the T when it was so crowded before. He was a sweet old man and I answered all his questions, very satisfactorily I think, adding for good measure how good his country was and all that I admired about it.

Then it was my turn. So, kind of obviously, I asked him if he was local and if this was his first time seeing the fireworks in Boston, the birthplace of the revolution. He answered he was local to Western Massachusetts where’d lived the last 25 years of his life, after growing up in Connecticut and going to college in New York. And thennnnnn he said…. “Yeah, I just got married last year, and my wife lived in Boston and I just moved” and he pointed to this pretty, petite, graceful fifty-something year old who had been waving both arms for a while trying to get his attention to tell him that theirs was the next stop!!! Then the train slowed to a stop, he said goodnight and that he enjoyed speaking with me, and he got off. But as he did, he left me with a cataclysmic realisation!

I say, if HE can find love at 60 AND move from the ‘burbs to the city for it… Hell, YES there’s hope for me (us- to any singletons reading this) yet. 



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True Lies Pushing 29…away

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