Music in Word and Deed

My last JT concert, two years ago in Portland.
I hope to see him again this year, and several hence.

I've been wandering
Early and late
From New York City to the Golden Gate
And it don't look like
I'll ever stop my wanderin...

-- James Taylor, "Wanderin' "

This song gives me great solace, a sense of uninterrupted peace no matter what turmoil ails me. Dad was a musician much like James Taylor, a classical guitarist with an easy, relaxed but highly-tuned voice. Because of him, I learned to love musicians like JT, Linda Ronstadt, Steely Dan, Bonnie Raitt,  Roberta Flack, CSN&Y, Melissa Etheridge, Tracy Chapman, Chicago Transit Authority (not only our transit relatives but also the band!) and many others.

My Beloved bought me a JT concert ticket as an early Father's Day gift a few months ago. He was scheduled to appear here in Portland later next month, but I know it will be postponed or even cancelled. All that matters right now is that Sweet Baby James remains healthy. He's in his early 70s now, like most of my favorite musicians from a youth long since squandered. This would be the sixth time I've seen James sing live in 40 years. Each concert has amazed me, because he grows in his music rather than changes. The joy he feels while performing is etched into his gently-aging features, a smile often alights upon them as he croons wondrous lines from the storybook of our lives.

Any artist hopes their performance elicits joy in those we communicate with. This blog is my way of sharing what I love with you. It is an intensely-personal relationship we share, whether you know me personally or have just happened upon this site. I'm no James Taylor, but I AM Patrick. Always have been: fiercely-individual, refusing to copy another but also heavily-influenced by artists who found their own path through the severe trials life thrusts upon us.

Yesterday was my Monday, but after 10 hours, it felt like Thursday. Anyone who drives a bus through CoronaHell can attest to the immense stress we're feeling right now. Sure, for the first time in decades, our management is actually trying to enact measures they think will safeguard us. Problem is, the vast majority of upper-Corporata have no idea what we actually endure "out there". Having never guided a 20-ton Beast through mean city streets, they have only "guidelines" which make sense to them. Hey, I know they're trying and I'm grateful for that. However, no amount of knee-jerk mandates will protect us from the "Factor H" hordes who have overtaken transit where the majority have entrenched themselves within their homes.

Hell, I can't truly fault management for its great ignorance. I am grateful they're trying, but still angry they have waited so long to make our health its main concern. Still, our grave danger requires not only calm faith but an enduring strength which has always propelled us no matter what dangers we face. Taking care not to be a pest, I write our GM with concerns. To his credit, he has taken the time to answer not only my emails, but those of other operators who have written him. I've never met the man and I did not support his ascension to the top tier of our management, but our voices are rarely considered when such matters are decided.

Still, I find it imperative to wish GM and his "team" strength and wisdom as he treads these vile waters, the most turbulent humankind has endured since the Spanish Flu pandemic of 1918. We are faced with incredible losses of revenue which will likely affect Portland transit for years to come, while also fighting to keep it afloat over the next few months as we endure the worst of what we face. Professionally, I may be often at odds with our management. Personally, I pray he finds the strength to do what's right for all who make the wheels turn. That can only come if he actually listens and learns from those of us on the front lines of transit. Perhaps now and afterward, he and his "team" will finally realize that WE are the fuel, the blood, the very energy which drives Portland to work and back home again.

Mostly, my prayers are with my union brothers and sisters worldwide, our elected officers and leadership. We have seen many fall victim to this invisible assassin, and each of us fear our own demise due to its unchecked violence. Our medical experts have been working non-stop to find a cure, a vaccine strong enough to stem the tide of horror it holds upon us all. Unlike our political or business leaders, COVID-19 knows no racial, socioeconomic or religious prejudice. It will kill you or me just as easily as we step upon that slimy slug on a rainy sidewalk. For the first time in modern history, we ALL face a common assassin bent upon taking as many as it can.

Oregon's residents are overwhelmingly awesome in this. Those who have to work, do. Thousands of Portlanders brave a hidden virus to serve their fellow residents. You know who I'm referring to: healthcare, police, fire/medical responders, food and hospitality service, refuse collectors, and many others. Of course, our profession is extremely vulnerable. We are constantly exposed to the worst possible conditions, and expected to simply deal with it as an occupational hazard. Expendable at the least, vulnerable at the worst. People consider us over-paid "public servants" but could not do without us. Maybe this worldwide disaster will inspire them to support us later as we continue our contract negotiations, but likely not. We do what's expected of us, period. Anything else is but a pipe dream.

Today, I resolved to cast off the fear, the terror, the constant stress of wondering if I'll become infected with the novel-CoronaVirus. I'm tired of it all. Everywhere I look on social media, doom stares back at me. People are scared, and rightfully so. Still, my job allows me the opportunity to see the light wherever darkness prevails. For once in my career, I'm watching as people giving way to others, respecting space and showing the compassion we have lacked for the past few decades. We're all mourning someone, or fearing for beloved friends and family members enough that we're cognizant of the danger everyone now faces. If only this could extend past our current dilemma to cast a guiding light upon our future, then perhaps humankind deserves another chance. As an optimist and dreamer, I can only hope this is true.

Once again, I found myself driving a route I recently left behind. Before. This. Damned. Persistent. Plague. Having made many connections with its passengers, I longed to find a few of my previous regulars. On my last run of the night, I did.

"Fred" the silent gas station attendant was one. He always boarded with hardly any recognition of the bus driver who always greeted him with a smile. This time was no different. Perhaps he was too self-absorbed (as are we all) to notice I was back. Perhaps my shaved face would have confused him, had he cared to look at me. Still, he quietly thanked me as he (gratefully) exited via the back door as the disembodied voice over the PA often implored people to do. That was plenty. Maybe he'll glance up at me tomorrow night and his eyes brighten a moment in recognition, but it's not something I expect. It's okay. As long as I deliver him safely to his destination.

Finally, there was Joel. Early last signup, and even when I had driven the route a few months before, this man intrigued me. Elegant in appearance and manner while dressed working class, he always acknowledged my greeting. Quietly yet politely. Late in the last signup, I decided to chance breaking his outer shell in hopes of drawing him out. Bus drivers have an innate ability to sense who might respond positively to an attempt to connect. To my delight, Joel responded as I hoped.

I asked him one evening as he boarded, "By any chance, are you a reader?"

"Why yes, yes I am," Joel responded. "Why do you ask?"

"Because," I replied, "you look like one. Quiet, reserved. I just guessed. Here's my card. I like to write, and you like to read. Check it out sometime, let me know what you think."

He took my card and promised to visit this blog. Evidently, he did just as he said. A few nights later he complimented me on it and promised to read deeper. I don't know if he did, but I'll bet he's a man who is good to his word. One thing I know: he began addressing me by my given name. He didn't need reminding of it, even though I was embarrassed to risk asking his again last night. I encounter 150,000+ people each year, and wish I could remember everyone's name, but it's an art I have yet to master.

With Joel on board, I was encouraged once again to offer my Thought for the Day. It's been difficult to find the right moment lately. We're limited to 10-15 passengers at any given time. I never know if these inspirational quotes will strike a positive chord. Most times, I just "go for it" and consequences can piss against the wind.

"Believe you can, and you're halfway there." -- President Theodore Roosevelt

It felt right, given our current situation. I glanced at Joel after offering this quote. He had a half-grin on his serene face. He nodded. A few folks acknowledged my attempt to lift them up. It was more than I expected. It worked.

No matter how stressful these times are, or this job, I find it imperative to continue in this quest to do what I can to lift folks up. Tomorrow is a new day, full of more challenges. However, I look forward to the opportunities that await us... both for myself and those who ride my roll.