It’s 6 am, the morning I’m due to fly from Boston to Chicago for a cable TV interview. One thousand miles away, an FAA employee takes his own life by setting fire to Chicago Airport’s air traffic control tower. All flights in and out are cancelled. I get the last seat on a 25-hour overnight train.
To my right, a petite woman with sunken black eyes and tiny brown shoes tells me how she left her home in Mongolia against her parents’ wishes to attend college in the U.S. Her dream is to do international community service. Another seat over, a man in his 30s with a dark tattoo across his neck shakes and sweats in fetal position. He’s heading to Arizona to “get clean and sober…and hopefully meet a girl.”
I pull my jacket over me, shivering as the sun goes down, trying to mold my body to the hard, lumpy seat so I can get some sleep. But alas, my brain is far too awake.
My thoughts drift to this crazy day. The suicidal Chicago arsonist…the Mongolian global do-gooder…the soon to be former addict…While one person gives up on life, two more push through the lot they’ve been given to go find one that brings (or in one case, keeps) them alive.
After the conductor announces that we’ll be delayed for another two hours, the large man in front of me with a cane resting on his belly jokes in Spanish to his relatives on the phone. A skinny, wrinkled man with a Nigerian accent two seats back is telling the story of his tattered beige suitcase and all of the places it’s been. His laugh is so contagious, I can’t help chuckling myself.
I could choose to focus on the arsonist and to go into fear about terrorism and hate in the world. Instead, I choose to listen to the stories and chatter of the people around me, the ones who aren’t making the news, but who are quietly living life with optimism, courage, and hope.
Can we humans ever be happy? Will light and love beat out darkness and fear? If this train car cross-section is any indication, I’d have to say yes.
© 2014 by Laurie Gardner
