TIME OUT!

Photo by Seani Galloway

Deke's Note: A sidebar, if you would, to the task at immediate hand. I pledged to you, dear fellow union brothers and sisters, to pose a Q&A to those running for President and Vice President of our union. Suddenly, I was confronted by a serious health issue with my Beloved. It stopped my efforts to allow YOU a moment to reflect on those running for office who chose to answer my queries. At this moment, she lies quietly sleeping. I have cared for her since I was informed on the road, twice this week, that she was at the ER in respiratory distress. Fuck anything else; when my Beloved is in dire straits, I will come running to her side, as she has been so for me for 30+ years. Here, I describe my deepest passions. Please bear with me, and thank you as always, for reading what comes from the mind of "just a bus driver".

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When we're young, our future is stretched far beyond the now. We tend to live just reacting to whatever happens at a tender age. We don't yet possess the capability to understand it. We come together. Children are born, we celebrate. Then we deal with the multiple challenges parenthood thrusts upon us. We simply live through it, not always realizing we're experiencing precious memories we'll remember to the grave.

Once we luckily become grandparents, we rejoice in this moment. Having run the gauntlet of parenthood only to welcome our children to adulthood, they remain our babies. When they become parents, we're flabbergasted it came so quickly. Still, that moment is equally as precious as when they were thrust into our arms. Us, unsure of ourselves, nervously cradling this creation of our love, are overwhelmed with the love we now experience. Sometimes, I feel guilty, as if my love for a grandchild suddenly seems more than equally becoming a dad. Then, I realize it's my chance to make up for the shortcomings of my parental life.

I saw in both my grandchildren at their infancy the same cool, steadfast gaze as my own parents, felt an overwhelming love just as I did for their parent I fathered. Except this time, it was different somehow. Although I celebrated each of my three offspring with unadulterated joy, welcoming a grandchild is somehow more an accomplishment.

After careful consideration, I realized that a grandchild's birth is an affirmation that we did many things right. No matter the fears we had when we welcomed our sons/daughter, it was so much more special to receive a grandchild because all the trials we celebrated together had now come full circle. Not only had our sweet kids survived, but now they were experiencing the incredible joy we felt when they bounced into our uncertain lives.

The past 16 months have become some of the happiest of my life. The day she was born, I told Mila Rose in the hospital, "Hey kid, what you say we bounce outta here and go fishing?" She didn't respond. Instead, she snuggled even closer to my heart than anyone had since Beloved first said she loved me. I was instantly, forever twitterpated. In every moment since, which is but a blink at my age, having seen her almost every week has elevated my soul to a spot I never dreamed possible, in spite of this incredible devotion I have for Beloved and our awesome kids together. Life cannot be any better than this short span, and I've been witness to many wondrous moments.

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I have to give great kudos to my union brothers and sisters. Station Agents, Dispatchers, and Road Supervisors and fellow Operators have ALWAYS had my back in my 11.5 years as an Operator. Recently, I've seen and felt their dedication as circumstances have pulled me away from my duties. My family knows that when disaster looms, or has happened, NOT to call me directly when I'm in service. They call my Station Agent, who contacts Dispatch, who contacts the nearest Road Supervisor. My supe is the hero who rushes to me, as Anna did the other night, flying around the corner with lights flashing and tires screeching around the corner and flipping a U-turn to zip to my side. Already on the phone with Beloved, I learned she was in the ER. Respiratory distress, fever. Second time in two days. My mind had already worked out how to get to her side. Anna was my vehicle. She shares the same name as my firstborn, a dear, devoted union sister. Thanks to all aforementioned parts of the puzzle, I arrived at Beloved's side within an hour of the call.

Tears flow freely for being part of such an incredible "family". I don't use that term loosely, especially when our managements feebly attempts to abscond with it in their attempts to describe their relationship with US. Family fights for one another. Management STILL fights against us. My ATU757 brothers and sisters still, and always, are constantly by my side, no matter the situation. Even when I call in to report cars illegally parked at my bus stops, they patiently accept my call and (even though I can feel the eye roll) promise to send a supe to check it out. I only do this because it's an ADA (Americans with Disabilities Act) violation if I cannot safely maneuver my bus into the stop to properly deploy the ramp, not to mention safely park my bus if early to a time point. 

Dispatch is my lifeline while operating The Beast. Conversely, I'm their "eyes and ears" on the road. I update them on conditions which affect operations. A collision backing up traffic or a car stuck on the MAX tracks, aggressive passengers which affect my safely operating, emergency vehicles blocking my route, any number of conditions which affect the smooth roll of our rides. In each case, my respected Dispatchers respond as quickly as they can, given the immense amount of incidents which occur every minute buses and trains roll through the Portland Metropolitan area. I could not do their job, nor that of Road Supes, Station Agents or Trainers. I'm not drawn that way. I'm a driver. Period. Without the support of these even-more dedicated (than I could ever be) transit workers, I'd be lost.

My most enthusiastic and heartfelt love to those who have taken the step UP into positions which are a Rail or Bus Operator's singular/collectively FIRST point of contact. We appreciate you more than you ever hear, so please accept this humble blogger's deepest thanks. YOU are the humanity management fails to convey. YOU know what we're going through. YOU hear our voices, attempting to remain calm and professional even in the more dire of consequences, who simultaneously contact whatever services dictate. I can ONLY operate my bus knowing you're there, ready to send help. And those who come... YOU have earned my respect for always having the knowledge to fix any situation which occurs.

The longer I drive, the more my body rebels. I started this job at 52 years of age. Now I'm approaching my Beatles Birthday, and in this past decade my physical self has succumbed to the rigors of the job. Each day I climb into the seat, my back and hips complain of the torturous 10 hours to come. I have learned to put these complaints aside, accept that I have a union-supported job to do as long as I'm able, and to do so gladly. This is a job I love. The hardworking people of Portland are my customers; the rest are simply passengers. I have to balance the two in my daily interactions. When someone gives me shit, my internal self wants to fight back. However, Management thinks otherwise in its desire to protect the least while ignoring the best. It's a constant battle of wills: stand up for those others who simply need to gain their destination or put my foot down against the troublemakers. Too often, I've been conflicted here. I cannot safely transport those who constantly adhere to transit protocol (there once was a Passenger Code of Conduct; where it went I wonder) while dealing with those who erroneously believe they should be able to do whatever the fuck they want on transit without consequence. 

My thoughts often wander to the departed souls of fellow Operators who lost their lives via attacks on their person. I remember and praise the soul of Thomas Dunn of Florida whose throat was slashed by a passenger who blessed him before his murder. Thomas was able to guide his bus to a stop, locking it up ensuring his bus passengers' safety, and those who maneuvered around his vehicle, before he bled out. Every day I take the seat of my responsibility, I repeat my daily 11-point mantra praying for a safe ride. Each time I leave my Beloved at home, we hug and kiss as if it's the last time we may see each other. I'm paid well for what I do, but not enough to prepare her for my sudden departure.

The past few years I have become more aware of my own health and taken steps to be more healthy in my habits. My advancing years, realizing Operators much younger than I am now have died due to conditions we face which cause extreme stress on our bodies, lead me to want to continue as long as I can to support my sweetheart. Yet every day I leave home it's a question mark. My dad lived to be almost 92, but I'm nowhere near as tough as he was. Can I remain strong enough to reach a lucrative-enough retirement to see me (and US) to enjoy our Golden Years together. All I have is that single prayer to guide me: Be Safe.

So here I sit writing THIS when I ought to be publishing our candidates' for ATU757 responses to my questions. Sorry, folks. It's been a hard fucking week. I'll get to it, I promise. Meanwhile, I just had to remain true to the original intent of this blog: to tell you what it's like to be a Bus Operator. Politics be damned. THIS is FromTheDriverSide was ever meant to be. Whoever is elected Prez or VP, I wish you the best. I've already voted, as many of you who still read this have as well. For the rest of you, stay tuned. By the end of this weekend, you'll read the rest of the candidates' answers to my questions.

 Meanwhile, I can only promise to care for the one who has been by my side for three decades plus. SHE is my main focus, along with Mila Rose and my every child for whom my love has no bounds. As long as you accept YOU brothers and sisters are a close second, we'll get along fine.

VOTE!!! You rascals, just mark your ballot for whoever you choose, and mail it. It takes moments of your time to choose who you want to lead US forward. If your favorite wins or loses, please support the victor and hold them to the union ideal: SUPPORT US with every ounce of their energy. 

I wish each candidate the best of luck, and beg each to throw their full support to the victors while remaining active and holding them to account in being the ONLY protection between US and THEM.

Safety be with you always, and thank you for reading. I am, and always will be, YOUR transit blogger.

Deke/Patrick