I Make A New Friend

My younger brother Monroe has Down Syndrome. Instead of committing him to an institution when he was born in the 1960s as many people were counseled, my parents provided him the same love and unfailing support as they did for all their children. As a result, today he's a well-adjusted contributing member to society.

Monroe is also a very accomplished Special Olympian, having met Eunice Kennedy Shriver, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Jon Bon Jovi, Muhammad Ali, and other celebrities. Medals from his many events hang prominently in his room, as they adorned our living room chandelier when we were kids. I've always been proud of him, and of my parents who refused to believe he could be anything but wonderful.

As I make my way to a relief point via bus from home, I'm daily treated to the company of a very sweet man who reminds me of my brother. He always sits in the same seat up front, places his lunch box next to him, and rides without a word. I wonder if he is just shy, or lacks the ability to communicate with others. His smile brightens even my cloudiest days, and he reminds me of my beloved Monroe. When I greet him, his responses are normally a smiling nod with a thumbs-up. He tends to brighten as I address him, but he speaks so softly I can't hear.

He's someone I just want to wrap in a manly hug. When I drove this line on the Extra Board years ago, he was a regular. At that time, he probably felt uncomfortable having a different driver, because he wouldn't even look at me. Chalking it up to shyness, I thought nothing of it. He made his way to his usual seat without a word.

I had no idea that my recent interactions with this man had any impact, until the other day. Conducting business via telephone as I commuted one day, I was sitting halfway back in the bus instead of standing near the operator as he boarded. He made his way to his usual seat, then looked up to see me wave. His face lit me up with a shiny smile.

Warm with affection, I smiled back. Then he did something that made my day, my week, perhaps my entire career. In all the times I've ridden with this silent companion, he's always chosen the same place to ride. People with Down Syndrome are comforted by routine, and I had never seen him deviate from his norm. For the first time, he walked past his usual seat and sat in directly in front of me. As I spoke with my book designer, she must have noticed my voice briefly choke with emotion. He turned around and smiled in greeting. My mind froze. I had no idea that merely acknowledging him as a fellow human being had registered such a lasting impact. At that moment, I knew we had become friends.

Just writing that paragraph has me in tears. So many people who board our buses are self-involved. Many hardly ever greet us, especially if we're not driving the bus they're riding. Kindness is a rare treat these days. Some jerk called me a "dick" last night, for no other reason than he felt entitled to do so. Yet my new friend, this beautiful soul didn't say a word except perhaps a soft hello, and I felt blessed.

His name is Jason, I learned today. His act of friendship warmed my soul on what had been a dreary, cold and rainy fall day. The sun shone warm within me from then on, as if it were pre-ordained. As winter approaches cold and wet, this simple memory is enough to keep me warm.

Thanks, Jason.