Teach Your Children

RIP, William Joel Nuttall. My best bud, best man, mentor.

Patrick's Note: I'm so sad David Crosby died the same week my mentor/friend/best man did. I saw him perform at the Aladdin Theater a few years ago, and it was magical. Crosby would have loved Joel's drums. While my love for my friend eclipsed that of Crosby the prolific stranger, my life is defined by the music of this generation I'm ensconced within. Right now, James Taylor sings Fire and Rain into my headphones as a 20-something wannabe. He became one of the most prolific songwriters of our time. While I cannot claim greatness, I'll continue speaking my truth to transit whilst this job surrounds my life. This time, I describe an incident which truly upset me. 

Maybe I shouldn't even write this post. Times past would have found me waiting for the coming complaint about my "behavior" while driving a bus before addressing the incident. This time it was an occasion which prompted an immediate response, tempered by a few days "cooling my jets". I'm still so pissed off by a passenger's incredibly-disrespectful behavior I cannot remain silent long enough to suffer management's fire. FUCK him, I'm better than his pussed-out whine sans cheese. He didn't even give me the honor of offering him my respectful explanation. Therefore, this angry retort. He doesn't deserve more than a three-day delay.

In the span of two weeks I have lived through the agonizing death of one of my closest friends, Joel Nuttall, who was my best man at my wedding to the love of my life, Beloved. It took great effort to secure the time off to rush to his wife's side, my equally-close dear friend Debbie. Upon my arrival home from trying to find solace from this horrific reality, I was treated to the miraculous arrival of my second grandchild, the first girl Coomer in nearly four decades. My son and his lady love welcomed a tiny beauty into our loving midst, which lifted my darkened soul out of the tearful trench it had dug deeply into. 

Welcome to this world, sweet Mila Rose.

Dealing with these dueling emotions, I was once again peacefully rolling my run when a regular boarded. We exchanged our usual cordial greetings, even though he boarded with a bicycle at a stop which is truly inconvenient to do so, as it stops traffic behind me on a busy highway. The stop just a few hundred yards prior affords the opportunity for traffic to smoothly pass by as he puts his bike on the rack and picks up his bags in front of the elementary school at which he supposedly "teaches" children. It takes about one minute to board the typical cyclist, which requires about three safety protocols.

As he boarded, I watched traffic pile up behind my bus, keeping a close eye on the most impatient of them, as they will often cross a double-yellow line to pass me rather than wait those extra few seconds to allow me to roll again. No matter the fact there is often opposing traffic, some are in such a hurry to attend their own funeral or cause that of another motorist they cannot bear the delay of a bus boarding intending passengers.

When we first met a month or so ago, I gently explained the stop just a few hundred yards south was more appropriate to board someone with a bicycle in that it was offset from the busy roadway. He blithely mentioned this stop was convenient, being directly adjacent to his workplace. He ignored my suggestion of slightly inconveniencing himself by rolling to the previous stop so his boarding didn't cause a traffic jam. Even though he blithely ignored me, I forgave this educator of our most precious ones.

I have great respect for the teaching profession, as my favorite cousin and sister-in-law have done for decades. We came to somewhat make a connection as the weeks became a month or two. It was beyond me to make further mention of my boarding suggestion. If he wanted to board conveniently, then so be it. Nagging him to make the extra effort to roll southbound out of his way was a no-win, as it is his prerogative to board wherever he desires. Still, I found it disrespectful of him to ignore my request. I learned to accept his choice.  

One night last week, his supposed cordiality took a decisive turn for the worst. As I rolled out of a transit center, I made mention over the public address system of a message from Dispatch which warned me of an impending demonstration in downtown Portland in support of a poor soul who was victim of a police brutality down south, of which I was ignorant of due to my disregard for the Dirty Laundry media. In my message to the few riders on my bus, I lamented upon Portland's previous history of a peaceful demonstrations turning violent, wishing my passengers safe travel into possibly-treacherous waters. 

My warning was given due to past encounters with peaceful protests followed by the horribly-violent disasters of previous years past. I stated our First Amendment rights are inherent, but I abhor the violence which had torn apart our downtown during the simultaneous pandemic. I witnessed decades-long businesses close due to the wanton disregard for property, mourning jobs of the working class also lost. It was agonizing to witness peaceful demonstrations advocating for positive change followed by ridiculously-unwarranted destruction of our once-thriving downtown business district. I don't believe this is in any way "political", but a simple statement of my sadness regarding vandalism.

Mr. Teacher immediately found it vital to berate me, to label me other than I am, rather than engage in a positively-directed discussion regarding America's First Amendment freedoms.   

This previously-cordial, supposedly-sweet passenger suddenly turned vile. He found it his duty to lecture me on my supposed "conservative views" while loudly talking over my attempts to explain myself. When I mentioned my PTSD which was triggered by the mere mention of downtown protests, he berated me by saying "You don't have the slightest idea about PTSD", citing his friends who had fought in Iraq. While I honor our soldiers who have valiantly served our country, I also know there are many different facets of this mental health dilemma. While a soldier who has seen the horrible reality of combat truly suffers from PTSD, others who have dealt with highly-stressful situations have as well.

Last year, Portland transit workers reported 227 incidents of violence directed toward us. I am one of those. Over the past 10 years of service to our collective community, I have been victim to several acts of violence directed at me, and five times where I have had to be relieved of duty because I was too shaken to continue safely driving my beloved Portlanders. There are countless others who have sadly failed to report violence directed toward them. To have this passenger refuse to acknowledge my own PTSD was extremely disrespectful at best, given my constant respect for him and safely delivering him to his intended destination. Without, I must add, his slightest acknowledgement of my constant vigilance for his, and others', constant safety. Like 99% of those who ride, he was totally engrossed in his cellphone to pay any attention to my constant vigilance behind the wheel.

This is a person who is tasked with the education of our youngest generation, the hope of our future as a society. He is simply a bully, given his actions toward me. In my opinion, he failed to live up to his responsibility. If he has any sense of self-respect, the next time he boards he will profusely apologize for his behavior. I hope I'm wrong, but he'll likely admonish me for MY behavior, which had he stopped to listen (as his students are expected to), he would have heard my heartfelt explanation for remarks which were misconstrued by him alone. Instead, he took the path we are too commonly confronted with, that which those assured of their own truth drown out others with the amplified voice of ignorance.

Americans have lost our ability to listen to one another. We're so engrossed with social media we can no longer discuss issues which divide us, which makes us even more divisive. I love it when my friends feel free to disagree with me, for in the end, our similar values draw us closer than our differences suggest. We are stronger together than apart. Where we disagree on one issue we may totally agree on another.

I'm sad this educator of our children feels so empowered as to say "Just drive the bus, and spare me your political views". You, sir, haven't a clue as to my views, because you refused to hear my soul. Just because I drive a bus doesn't eliminate my voice.

If you dared call in a complaint about me without even caring to listen what I have to offer, then perhaps a note to your school district is warranted. Why? Because someone so closed and callous has NO business teaching a new generation how to behave. I truly hope you apologize to me, having had a bad day in which you took your frustrations out on a "lowly" public servant. Those who know me realize I will graciously accept it, with humility and understanding. That's how I roll, folks.

Meanwhile, peace be with you, dude. Evidently, you need it more than I do. I'm good with who I am and how I act toward others. Perhaps those you "teach" have more valuable lessons for you than you're ready to learn.

Love my surviving best friend Deb,
always remembering our dear Joel.

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