Reminders from a stranger on the train

Meet Greg, tattoo artist and ex-convict

Today, I got an impromptu drawing lesson from a stranger on the train.

Full-sleeve tattoo, ratty jeans, leather jacket.

Metal earrings, battered hands.

We got on the subway at the same stop and I sat down next to him because I didn’t want him to think I was intimidated.

A tattoo artist and ex-convict who looked exactly like you would imagine a tattoo artist and ex-convict to look like.

Twenty minutes on the train from Brooklyn to Manhattan, and he reminded me:

We all get to choose, again and again, exactly what we want to believe about the world.

My mom would have killed me. Although she would also say that my naiveté was typical.

A few stops later, after I had exhausted the things I could do on my phone, I took out my sketchbook and Greg looked over, excitedly asking me if I was an art student.

In the second I spent considering how to respond to this intimidating stranger who was taking up two seats next to me on the train, I thought of something my mom said in passing two months ago. My dad was asking me over dinner if I thought customers would take advantage of a promotion he was…