The Marta Chronicles

The Devil is not as mean as some people. I hate hearing that the Devil has so much power. He/She/It has as much power as we give it. And it seems that we are more devilish than the devil himself.

This morning, a pregnant woman boarded the train. She squeezed her way on board, probably hoping someone would give up a seat. She could have waited for the next train, MAYBE it would have been less full. But that would have been a chance she'd have to take, plus the weather has changed. Its cold again, with winds helping the air be a bit more colder.

The gentleman, I will call him The Standing Man, holding on to the pole next to me looked around, then spied a man closest to us sitting.

"Excuse me sir, would you mind letting this lady have your seat?"

The man grunted and rolled his eyes. Then he said, a few seconds later: "Yes I do mind," his lips curled up in a frown resembling the wicked smile/frown of the Joker from Batman and Robin. "I paid to ride, just like everybody else. Ain't gotta give up my seat just cause she a woman."

"Okay. Okay, brotha. No problem," The Standing Man tried to shush him with words. He smile at me and shook his head, I shook mine too - while frowning at the man sitting, who continued to talk.

"Women want equal rights, well they got it. Equal rights mean they stand when the train is full. That's what it mean, that's what it mean to me."

Other people laughed or mumbled disapprovingly, some shook their heads but none sitting, male or female, budged . . . expect an elderly lady. She had bags at her feet and she stumbled forward as she tried to stand.

"Come on baby, take this seat."

"Naw, naw, I'm fine," she protested. "I'll be alright."

"I know you will but I've been pregnant before and it ain't the most comfortable feeling." She giggled. "Now sit down," she said a bit more firmly. And the young pregnant lady took the seat.

The elderly lady smiled up at the Standing Man who seemed almost to be too tall for the train's ceiling. She thanked him for looking out for the young lady.

"Well, that's what a man is supposed to do."

"That's right," she agreed. "My Momma and Daddy worked hard all their lives. My Momma's hands were as hard as my Daddy's but at the end of a work day, he treated her like a lady, like a queen. I never heard my Daddy raise his voice to my Momma nor his hands and this was a strong man . . . very strong, physically - ya know. Men's are strong in their upper arms and women are strongest in the hips and thigh area. And there's a reason for that - men till the fields and women birth the children." She went on cheerfully as if glad to have an audience. It seemed like everyone was listening to her speak. English broken and very southern, but that didn't stop the Standing Man, who sounded as though he'd just stepped off a plain from New York, from conversing with her. They talked like old dear friends, like grandson to grandmother, like teacher to student. It was beautiful. Her teaching us all a lesson on common courtesy and respect, despite one's age or gender . . . birth privilege . . . or level of education.

I wonder if those sitting around, reading newspapers, talking on cell phones, listening to bad music through earphones - I wonder if they heard the message at all.

posted by Darni @ 3/06/2001 07:04:00 PM