The responsibility of tolerance lies with those who have a wider vision.
The bus in the city came to a full stop. The driver pushed a button and the front end dropped down so an older man with a walker could get on easier. While having some difficulty and obviously struggling, I watched as a young man rushed over to help lift his walker up and helped him into the bus. The older man dropped his cane as he passed by me. I reached down to pick it up. He said thank you, with a thick German accent. He then sat down across from me, and I handed it to him, he smiled. The young man that had helped him on to the bus then sat down beside his wife, who was wearing a hijab. We all smiled.
I have been taking buses in the city for a month now. I am starting to miss my tractor seat back home on the farm. I am missing it, but I am also loving the stories that come from my observing the people on the bus.
I had been lost, confused and a bit worried while travelling the bus, and I think that may show on my face a little bit. I have not had one person who did not show true compassion and a genuine caring for me, this complete stranger. This stranger, who was constantly asking what bus goes where and how was I to find this street or that, or where would I get off for the transfer stop. Two buses twice a day, as it turns out, has been an enjoyable thing for me. Every nationality from around the world seems to be represented on the buses I take, and everyone just helps each other without thinking of what they are going through, or what is in it for them. This makes me happy. I think the world needs more of that. Everyone, especially these days, (at least it seems to me) are always so worried about everything. “Treat others’ as you like to be treated”, simple as that is my motto.
There are many stories that run through my head, and I am sure I will be sharing them over time, but I must tell you about the one from yesterday. I have never been away from the farm for this long and sometimes I have to admit it has been a bit difficult.
Yesterday something happened that had me laugh, and think about the farm.
The university run bus was very packed and some of the students were standing. They, most always offer their seats to us “Old folks”, at least that is what I have noticed. I have never had to stand. The bus stopped in front of an Asian food market store and I remember thinking that I would love to go in there someday. An older man boarded the bus. He appeared to be about a head shorter than I. He sat down on the seat beside me. He had three very full bags of groceries. I smiled at him, and then he smiled back. I turned back to watch out the front windshield, as to not miss my stop, again.
Suddenly I felt something very cold against my lower leg. I looked down. Some people may have possibly freaked out a bit. Being a farmer I smiled. There, sticking out of the bag, were two very fresh skinny chicken legs crossed and tied with a band. They were obviously attached to a whole chicken. I stared at them for a while. They were nicely cleaned, with perfect webbed feet. I then thought that possibly it was a duck. I turned to look out the front window of the bus, with the legs still pushing against my leg. No worries, it was in the bag. All I thought was I cannot miss my stop again.
Doing well here in the city, gathering stories as I go round and round.