I will always maintain that the subway, the metro, the underground—whatever we might call the subterranean travel system in different cities of the world—is one of the greatest modern inventions. New York's alone transports millions of us each day and provides human interest stories at the same time. They're the freebies of each journey.
The morning crowd consists of those heading off to work. One day last week I was jammed against a pole with a much taller man, so all I could perceive of him was a plaid shirt above his jeans. However, when we reached his stop, he bent down, picked up a covered basket of tar, revealed that his other arm held a long-handled brush, and off he went to do someone's roof.
Among those morning riders I most admire are the mothers who have managed to get the tiniest travelers into their carriages before 7am and onto the subway. Human kindness comes to the fore there too. I have never seen them reach a connecting stairway without someone picking up one end of that carriage and moving it to the next level.
The subways do provide those once in a lifetime stories that no one can top. Mine goes back to the Sunday morning I was heading up the West Side for a speaking engagement. We stopped at a station, (The car was not heavily populated, thank God), and a rat ran on from the platform, circled a pole and ran off again. We were all too amazed to react, until the young woman opposite me said: "I think he wanted the express." The drew appreciative and relieved laughter.
I find the subway such fertile ground for prayer. Most mornings when I can barely unbend my arm to find a book I pray for the folks in my car, for those with their breakfasts, their bicycles, their overloaded backpacks. I pray for those I can see and for those I can't as we travel together into a new day. I pray them into it, and perhaps one of them is doing the same for me. |