Bardeaux
Bluelight Crew
- Joined
- Jan 6, 2008
- Messages
- 15,066
Albert
My name is Albert. Every morning around six AM I grab a coffee, a copy of the The New Yorker and head to the Grand Central Station for no observable reason. I’m neither coming nor going. I sit amid the early morning rush throughout the day, usually until 1 PM. I’m eighty-six years old and am constantly asked, “Why?” “Why do you do this every morning without missing a beat?” “How long have you been doing this?” “Is there something or someone you’re searching for within this sea of strange faces?”
I’m not a young man. I don’t find pleasure in dancey hoopty-hoops or whatever popular culture has evolved to at this point. That chapter of my life ended decades ago. At eighty-six, I day dream about what could have been, what could be and how I used to fit into it all. I see my face in the suits boarding the trains in such a hurry. This was once me, hustling about, trying to outpace everyone else. These days I just like to relax and look at this life from a distance. I can live ten thousand vicarious lives a day.
Unbeknownst to me, I’ve probably seen thousands of wedding anniversaries, birthdays, job interviews, hurried marriage proposals, you know name it. Take this gentleman beside me here, for instance. He’s a young man, maybe in his early twenties, greased hair to the side, shoes untied, stains on his khakis. I could barely get a whisper from him. How could I? The world was new to him, it was intimidating, it was competitive and frightening. This was a caricature of me in 1938. As a young man I sat in this very station waiting for my train to pull in. Only back then, it was used to take me back and forth from interview to interview. It took years of busting my ass like this to land a worthwhile job at an accounting firm in lower Manhattan. I can see it in this young man’s face that he was no different from myself. Time is the great equalizer, and one day perhaps he’ll be sitting here in Grand Central people watching as I do.
Fifteen years ago, my wife as diagnosed with stage 4 liver cancer. We lost her several months later. The grief one feels while holding the hand of your life-long partner cannot be described in words, so I won’t even delve into the details. Needless to say, this left me with lots of spare time, lots of Earthly questions and lots of reflection.
Eleven years ago I began visiting the station. It was by the advice of no shrink or therapist, it was a simple impulse. So I grabbed a coffee, a copy of the New Yorker and went down the Grand Central. What I had begun to notice, is that despite my grief, despite my loss in the world, people were still doing what people do. They were going to work; they were arguing in public, they were subsequently very openly making up in public. Life had gone on. The same will be true of me when I decide to cast myself from this Earthly rock. Individuality is an important virtue in life, but in death; we’re all egalitarian in death. For whatever reason, this gave me great hope. Like watching the men and women hustle from train to train trying not to miss their meeting, watching the janitor wield his mop, seeing a couple in love or watching a good brawl or two. These are transient interactions between transient beings. The sharp mind of a pressed steel knife may be necessary to cut through business deals and to succeed in today’s highly competitive environment, but it isn’t the key to neither happiness nor universal peace. This is dictated by experience, by white knuckled rides that you think you’ll never live through. Wisdom and serenity are highly underrated features of the human psyche. To ask an old geezer who had served in France during the Second World War (apparently the first one wasn’t “great” enough and another was needed), greed, power, influence. These are all nice things to hold on to, wouldn’t you say? I’d certainly enjoy a bit of wealth and influence, wouldn’t you?
Point being, happiness cannot be found in power and influence. The world is a shark tank and the dolphins are but along for the ride. This strikes me a bit backwards, as sharks are not wise. Sharks are not serene. They are certainly not intelligent enough to be rulers of the sea. Their instinct is to seek, destroy and devour. The dolphins on the other hand, have developed complex language. They’re just as much thinking animals as they are instinctual. But alas, the sharks have the teeth, the tenacity and the willingness to risk themselves for their next meal.
I come to Grand Central in order to witness this in human society. The meek are devoured by the aggressive, unless the meek adapt and become bloodthirsty themselves.
My, has everyday life has changed here. If you look closely enough, you can still see glimmers of chivalry, politeness and modesty, and the occasional good deed. This was once common courtesy, believe it or not. Before everyone went and got themselves in a big selfish rush, people took the time to stop, look around and notice the beautiful city in which they were encapsulated. Men wore hats, women wore dresses, even during the busiest time of rush hour, and it wasn’t out of the ordinary to take several minutes to aid a fellow stranger. This sense of community has been long eroded. What will become of the future? I’m afraid it’s far too late for me to answer this riddle. This responsibility rests upon your shoulders.
This is an except from an upcoming short story anthology. If you'd like the name of the anthology and more information, shoot me a PM
