O Happy Day (on the CTA) Begins

O Happy Day!

My morning started off badly.  My usual morning exchange with Mike, the friendly station manager, was clipped short, as I tried to get quickly through the turnstile without letting on that I just had a  dust-up with a loved-one.  I sucked in my tears and straightened my shoulders as I climbed the stairs to the el platform.  Just as my foot hit the boards, the loop-bound train breezed in and I hopped into the last car.  Fortunately I found a seat at the very back near the window and attempted to fade into the worn-out upholstery, sunflower-shelled floor and grimy texture of my daily commute.

And then I woke up.  I could either take the daily bait and go into the 25-minute coma that my daily ride offers or inspire myself out of the fog and into a state of curiosity and wonder.  But how?  And then I remembered that my fully-charged I-POD shuffle was at the bottom of my backpack. I fished it out and clicked my way past Madonna's "Express Yourself," Steve Miller Band's "Jet Airliner," and Emmy Lou Harris and Gram Parsons' "Love Hurts" in search of my morning musical elixir...the sure thing, the remedy, the antidote to the tragedy of the suburban commuter commons, Ladysmith Black Mambazo (LBM) and gospel singer Betty Griffin singing, " O Happy Day!"  My day began to turn around. My CTA mojo was coming back.

As LBM and the gospel choirs'  soothing harmonies blended with Betty's raspy, soul-filled, God-lovin' voice I got inspired.  I took in the mixed bag of professionals, students, service-workers, health-care aides, welfare mothers, uniformed elementary kids.  Black, white, Latino, suburban, inner-city, rich, poor, educated, uneducated.  The list goes on. I imagined what was playing on the I-POD of the middle-aged woman tapping her fingers on her thighs.  My eyes wandered to the 20-something wearing the "Tattooed Lady" t-shirt.  Her hair was yellow and pink, her skin inked with two skull-headed serpents resting above each breast on her collar bone.  I enjoyed the pimped out clothing of the man across from me---a studded jacket, large gaudy belt buckle, pointy shoes, Kanye West shutter shades and bauble-y rings and jewelry.  The man in front of me snoozed behind his New York Times.

Some days I keep my eye on the occasional preacher, panhandler, or street urchin.  Sometimes I listen to the eery silence, although the car is packed from end-to-end. And still, other days, I find myself turning to the stranger next to me and saying "good morning" or asking, "how was your day?"  

Many times my simple greeting elicits a conversation that lasts the entire ride.  I've heard  stories from factory workers, corporate transplants, greying retirees and toothless men.  Many of these stories remind me that God exists, life is precious, and that a life well-lived might best be found in our connection to each other.

Thanks to my Facebook Friends who have encouraged me to go further. To write more. To capture the images.  To share the journey and the stories alongs the way.