Commuter Passed
Monday morning
February, 2019
Brushing second coat of mascara on too few lashes
Wide-open eyes glance over the vanity mirror
Dad’s Feb 1973 Commuter Pass
Tucked behind photos and momentoes
On a satin-padded bulletin board
Dad traveled miles and miles for a better life
On The Erie Lackawanna Railway
Between Murray Hill and Hoboken
An hour and a half each way
Five days per week
For decades
Hustled to the PATH train
Aka the “Tubes”
Brisk walk down Wall Street
Elevator to the 18th floor
Plush carpets, windowed offices
Corporate America
Three young daughters
Middle child, me
Just shy of my 10th birthday
In February, 1973
Home ownership
Two car garage
Suburban bedroom community
On the right side of the tracks
Long way from The Great Depression
I found his Feb 73 Commuter Pass,
His bookmark,
In a home improvement book
He gave to me
You know…
One of a series
Tiling Floors?
Building Shelves?
No world wide web back then
Just manuals and books
Fathers teaching sons
His father,
Before his death,
Earned wages as a butcher
Bought drafting tools
Designed and built their home
On Park Place
Not like in Monopoly
But in the shadow of elevated tracks
Gifted mind
Gifted hands
Trains captured Dad’s imagination
Even as a child
Saved his life
After his father’s suicide
My father,
A little boy,
Found his way to the train yard
Befriended by other men
Engineers, conductors
Sat up front in the locomotives
No ticket to ride
Repressed in his grief
All aboard!
Get on
Get moving
Hurry
You can do it!!
Used his brain
3 jobs for tuition
Teachers’ college
Designed a life with my mother
MBA, CPA
Recruiters, NYC
Senior Vice President
Golden handcuffs
Before 911
Before The Great Recession
College educated 3 smart kids
Middle child, me
Moved to NYC
Finished growing up
Subways from Union Square to Wall Street
Internships and lunches
Dinners and plays with Dad
Fridays
Met in Hoboken
Saved seats
On the Erie Lackawanna Railroad
If broken windows opened
Hot summer breezes
Ragged wicker seats
Pulled panty hose
Wrinkled suits
An imperfect father teaching his daughter
An imperfect daughter teaching her father
Never blinked
When I fell in love
With my childhood sweetheart
An ambitious young musician
Captured my imagination
Middle child, me
Worried about money
A legacy of insecurity
But told by my father
Marriage is not a final destination
Can be an accelerator of individual dreams
Many tracks to take
Go get married
Go see the world
You've got a ticket to ride
On the express train of life
So we did
In February, 1989
Between world tours
And flights to distant places
When I landed
Stepped off my Type A career
Psychoanalysis had captured my imagination
Healed me
Healed my father
Found my calling
Became a therapist
Private practice
Home office
A 30 second commute
2 daughters of our own
White picket fence
Short walk to the beach
Husband writing songs
Husband building shelves
Gifted minds
Gifted hands
…………
Monday morning
February, 2019
6:58 train whistles toward the station
Architect daughter
Ticket on the phone app
Hops on the double-decker car
NJ Transit to Penn Station, NY
Designs a life of her own
Buildings now capture her imagination
~~
Clock tick-tocking
Gaze shifts to my reflection
Now blurry
Waterproof mascara cradling
Holy water in my eyes
But no time for tears
Almost late for work
Pull on my jeans
No more panty hose
Head downstairs
Time for other people’s tears
Other people’s imaginations
Renovating their lives
How fortunate am I?
Before his death
Dad gave up commuting
Gave up home improvement
For walks around Washington Square Park
My old stomping grounds
Walked with me on the Boardwalk
Last stop, the Jersey Shore
A Grandpa and his daughter
At peace
An ordinary life
At last
