I was on that train...

This is an article I didn't plan to write, but if culture is defined as being about the personality of a group of people, about what sets them apart, then last night, was a small example of what the people from Chicago are about. I was just another person on the train last night- going home. I was on the 9:40 PM Metra train headed toward Aurora. With me, were others, whom I never would have gotten to know if not for a tragedy. We weren’t 15 minutes out of the station, when the train stopped, and the train men began digging in their bags, donning reflective jackets and belts, hurrying down aisles. It wasn’t long before we were told that the train had had an ‘incident with a pedestrian’.

And for the next two hours, although we were kept regularly informed of the progress in the ongoing effort of getting the train going again, we were stuck. It was getting late. We were tired. It is most easily seen what people are like when there is an unforeseen interruption in their daily lives. After the train stopped, and we knew that we would be waiting awhile, and that there was nothing to be done on our part, individual’s reactions were telling. For the first thirty minutes, everyone stayed seated, lost in thought; some making phone calls, some working on their laptops, some playing video games or listening to music on headphones. After an hour, there was a definite sense of a shifting of bodies, a rustling in briefcases or bags in search of some other distraction. Those who had a seat to themselves began to stretch their legs out on the seat. For others, who shared a seat; each tried to concentrate more on whatever the individual pursuit.

After ninety minutes, our individual commuter masks began to slip. There was the older gentleman who loudly complained that he was cold, that it was all a conspiracy; he was ready to go and tell the engineer ‘what for’. The younger woman next to me offered him her leather jacket. When he continued to complain, other passengers started to shift away, to pick up where they had left off doing what they were doing. He began talking to a woman across the aisle from him. She was worried about the long walk ahead of her after she arrived at her destination. Then she heard about where the older gentleman would still have to travel to when he reached the end of the line; some hours to his destination, to a far suburb which the woman agreed with him was “in the sticks”. There was the college girl, who kept looking around nervously, anxious to hear the latest news, the older couple who just sat quietly, her head finally dropping onto his shoulder, waiting patiently. The young woman next to me began to talk about how much she hated her job, about how her brother loved his. She was going back to school. The lady across from me was talking about the fresh peach cobbler she hoped to bake on Saturday, and how it was important to get the peaches just right.

I’m sure that there were a lot of other random conversations going on in those unmoving cars. I hope so. These were conversations which never would have happened if not for this tragic accident. There were no angry words, except for a little grumbling right at the beginning. There were no fights or accusations. When one of us would complain, it was done with humor, by the one doing the complaining, or by someone joining the conversation. There was a great deal of concern for the pedestrian. Even after we got moving again, the first question voiced by many, was, ‘What happened to the pedestrian who had gotten hit by the train?”

As the Culture and Events Examiner, I think it' important  to sometimes stop, put down the microphone, and take off the headphones and see what is around me. We often forget to just look around, to listen; to those who sit next to us on trains, who sell us the daily paper, who ride the same train, even if it is for only one ride, late at night, that results in tragedy. For those two hours of waiting, I think, perhaps, something shifted. We put down our toys and began to talk.

Last night, I was reminded of what makes Chicago a great city; what is part of who we are is our warmth, our patience (usually), our caring for each other. I don’t know about other cities, but I’m proud of where I live, and who I share it with.

May you all have a safe weekend. 

My prayers go to the victim and to his family.

For more information: http://www.chicagobreakingnews.com/index2.html                                           ("Man killed by Burlington Northern train identified")