Train Gang

When I first thought about beginning to write, I was talking to a friend on the train. We agreed you could probably write a wonderful book about all of the people we meet commuting through the years and all of the lives and stories that intersect. And I sure love a great story, which is why I suppose, I never sit alone, or with my husband (who would much rather read (snore) ). I sit in the "facing seats". And that has made all the difference.

When you sit in the "facing seats" on our train it means that you won't necessarily have peace and quiet. Occasionally the grumpy person who sits in our proximity learns that the hard way, but generally it is the unwritten rule of commuting life, that if you sit directly facing another human being, you will be social. Many of us have our own little clusters that have ridden together for years.

I first learning the phenomenon when I was a very young law student working at a firm and commuting alone for the summer from Long Island to my parent's home. I was befriended by a bunch of folks much older than I. They all lived where I did, the end of the line. We were the first ones on the train, and the last to leave. That line had some hard-bitten gamblers too. The same moving poker game had been going on for years. The guys would get on the train in NYC and take down the big poster advertising whatever, turn it over in their laps and begin the game. The money would be tucked into the corners. There was lots of swearing and smoke. (Cigarettes were allowed back then). Commuting was the great equalizer. There were union men and CEOs and many millionaires. You could just get home so much faster on the train than the Long Island Expressway.

There was even a guy whose wife went on Oprah with her Mom to talk about their relationship and how that left him, the husband, as a third wheel. Oprah was a lot like Maury back then. And there were a bunch of sweet people who all had stories. At that point, mostly men, who worked hard and played hard and trekked into "the City" (because anyone from NY knows there is only one) to support their families. Soon the summer was over. They had a party for me. Someone brought 3 thermoses of coffee and the conductor ( a woman) made a coffee cake, and they all wished me well and I returned to law school.

Later I began to commute to NYC myself as a grown woman. The ghosts of the old card games and cigarettes were long gone but the stories were still there. It was a different train line but a popular route. I got to know a couple of women on the line. One of them, I will call her Suzie, met me right after my youngest son was born. Through the years she has always offered me wise counsel. I have followed behind her through the years of childrearing, childcare, working and finding out how to put things that are important first. We rarely socialize outside of the train, but we do know much of each other's lives. I hope I have brightened her day sometimes, and knowing her has definitely enriched mine.

There is also E, who is a great wife and mother. She is a career woman all the way, and yet is so sweet and caring and frets about her children in college. She and her husband have a love and partnership that is one that I admire and she is a very genuine person, who truly means well for those who deserve it. She believes in our community, global and local.

Yet another is a top banker and has a wry smile and sly joke for all occasions. She wears the shoes of a nun but is anything but. We tease her about the shoes, knowing they are only on so she can make a mad dash to her office. She taught me about acceptance of the nature and character of friends and family. She is beautiful, but has no idea, and truly could not care less about the outside of the package. She works incredibly hard and used to travel all the time. I love that I see her at night on the train with a beer.

We also have an artist and teacher. She regales us with stories of the college and her many jobs after hours. She moved to town when I did and we looked at the same houses. Our weight has fluctuated at the same time up and down and we even bought our dogs at the same time. She and I will disconnect for months and then reconnect like we saw each other the day before. Every time our lives intersect we find out that we have each been crossing paths some other way in what we have been doing.

There are also people from other stops who have retired, or even passed away. We were remembering our friend Marianne. I met her the night the train hit a car and we were all stranded for hours. We had cell phones (it was not the norm then) and passed them around so everyone could call their families. And we told our stories. I had overheard hers for a year before we met. She had been married twice before and she was about to marry for true love the third time around. He rode the train with us too. They were so in love. She was one of those beauties, around 50 but you would swear she was 35. Long blonde hair and a passion for cashmere and other fine things. She worked selling luxury consumer goods. We had met as couples off the train for dinner. A year or so later she was coughing a lot on the train and we urged her to check it out. Turned out to be lung cancer. A few short months later she was gone. She wouldn't let us visit. She didn't want any of us to see her without her beauty. We went to her funeral and her wake, a group of us. Her husband saw us too. He will never be the same. He really never rode the train again.

We had our own train wake. We took up two sides of the "facing seats" on the 6:29. And two more rows besides. It was me and my banker friend and a bunch of others. We got beer and blood orange margaritas and chips and had a party in her honor. She would have approved.

We know each others stories and lives, we wait for the sequel the next day or week. Sometimes these "strangers" know more about us than our own family members. These are the people who give us counsel, humor and offer up their wonderful ideas. Sometimes we really just read a book or a newspaper and don't really listen in to the conversations. Now I am one of the "older women" and I have met some of the younger moms trying to balance the two to four year old set and their jobs, families, homes, parents etc. It brings me back to those days.

The train really never stops. We all commute from one place to another, from one life to another. The destination may be work or it may be home. I get off on a spring day like the other day, and we all call out to each other to have a great evening, or weekend or whatever. We join the larger group of folks up the stairs and call out to a few more friendly faces.