Lily Makes A Comeback/Murphy/Bus Stop Burritos

Scout pushes to the front of the line nowadays, positioning himself to board the bus first. No one seems to mind. He’s the obvious elder of our street corner tribe. With his tattered coat and broken eyeglasses he looks the part of an old warrior who prefers priority seating and a morning nap over the dreariness of battle.

Happy to have the company of a fat raccoon at the bus stop today. I’m amazed at how much urban wildlife there is to enjoy in Boston, especially early in the morning before most humans are up and about.

I passed a softball field on my way home tonight where a group of kids were playing. The boy at bat kept swinging, missing, swinging, missing. Then, surprise, he nailed it. The ball went flying into the far right field. The kids in the outfield scrambled to retrieve the ball and throw it to first base before the batter reached the plate. But when they turned in that direction they were confused to see that the little boy who hit the ball was still standing at home plate, staring into the outfield, mouth open in awe. He had no interest in running bases. He was simply enjoying the moment, thrilled at having hit the ball at all.

Saw a woman in a black dress dancing in the rain. Some things you see are hard to explain.

When, out of courtesy for the gentleman who shares my narrow bus seat, I stop texting and put away my phone and he pulls out a laptop.

When you just want to get home and the bus.hits.every.single.red.light.

Overheard on tonight’s commute:

“I totally agree about climate change, but that global warming is a bunch of crap.”

Dry leaves, the first to fall, already scatter around my feet as the bus pulls to the curb. This is how Autumn begins. A sudden chill in the air. The quiet resignation of trees. So slowly that one barely notices.

Breakthrough for Lily today. Fans of the Bus Chronicles may remember that she rarely spends more than a few minutes in public when she emerges briefly from her apartment building dressed in Monet watercolors and wearing a floppy lavender hat before dashing back inside again. Today she boarded the bus carrying two cloth shopping bags — one from the local market and one from the Harvard University bookstore.

Met a leprechaun named Murphy at the bus stop today. Although he loves gold coins he was admittedly short on cash this morning, having just been released from a mental institution where he was held against his will for five months. “There are a lot of brilliant people in there” he assured me “but instead of stimulating their minds so they can do great things, they are being sedated against their will.”

Murphy is unhappy with the current state of America. “The country was founded by fisherman, but nowadays it’s controlled by men who never caught a fish in their lives.”

Sober since 1999, Murphy believes what the world needs now is “weed.” “George Washington was the founder of our nation. He took the seeds and spread them throughout the land and said grow, nourish the people. God gave man dominion over the plants. He knew what he was doing. If we all just forgot about money and fame for a while and got high the country would be much better off. I’m not talking about getting high and sitting on the sofa. I’m talking about opening our minds to great thoughts. Amazing thoughts. Just imagine what we could accomplish!”

Murphy carefully arranged his possessions into neat piles around him and put up a handwritten cardboard sign that read “Hungry, please help.” He showed me a banana that he had bought with what little coins remained in his pocket. “It cost $1.07” he told me “they taxed it. Can you believe they taxed a banana? That’s what’s wrong with this country. Wouldn’t have happened to George Washington, I can tell you.” I offered him the sandwich I had packed for lunch, which he accepted only after my detailed description of the ingredients met with his approval.

“I met an angel last night” he told me “her name was Jackie. What’s your name?” I told him and he responded “You’re a saint. I met an angel and a saint in one night. Now I know God hasn’t forgotten me.”

He handed me a folded piece of paper as the bus pulled up.

“Do you have any words of wisdom for me?” he called after me as I boarded the bus. I responded “No sir, but thank you for sharing yours.”

Once on the bus, I unfolded the piece of paper he had given me. It read:

“My name is Murphy. There are many Murphys in the world but I am the funniest one. I have a great deal of enthusiasm and optimism for the world even though I am currently homeless. I am still a child of God even when people disrespect me and think I am just a dumb ass. I am a better writer than Stephen King and my wish is to become the greatest writer on earth and have much time to fish.”

Scout today (to no one in particular): “Why don’t you turn on the lights? It’s dark in here.”

The convenience of cell phones seems to have caused some people to forget the benefits of private conversation. Four different phone conversations happening around me on the bus right now:

“I am really sorry for what I did to you at the funeral. I hope you can forgive me.”

“No, no, I’m doing great. It’s just that the pain medication is really tricky.”

“Yes, it’s all true. I confess. But it happened before we were married.”

“I swear, I’m the only one who knows what you did and I promise not to tell anyone.”

And from the other side of the bus:

“The reason I like Superman and Batman so much is because they never kill anyone. I mean, they get into these tight corners and you think there’s no way out, but then they come up with some left field, out of nowhere, idea that makes you think “how the hell did they come up with that?!” Because they’re super heroes, that’s because why, sure maybe they break an arm once in a while but like there’s no way to avoid that kind of thing.”

A stranger approached me at the bus stop today, stood uncomfortably close and whispered “I’m not a derelict. I have no weapons. I am not going to rob you.”

“Well that makes me feel a lot more comfortable.”

“I do want something from you though.”

“And what would that be?”

“I want you to buy me a burrito.”