Wisdom from a Stranger
Anthony Becker, East Sierra Branch
Around Thanksgiving in the mid-’10s I was waiting for a train at Jack London Square.
These were the before times, and a stranger dressed sensibly sat beside me on the steel benches. He said hello and asked me if I spoke Spanish. Hardly, I said, although I could spell my name in American Sign Language.
He pulled out his wallet and showed me a picture of himself with his wife and several children. She was Mexican, he said, and that’s why he’d asked.
He went on to tell me about his career as a lawyer. He’d worked on the Roe v. Wade case in the Supreme Court.
He told me more stories like that, and he told me to use the toolbelt of philosophy–The Five W’s and H, as I’d learned them. Who, what, where, when, why, and how.
I was fascinated by the man, of course, wise as he appeared and willing to share it. We spoke together for a quarter hour like that, waiting for the same train, I was sure.
It surprised me therefore when he said, “Well, it’s time for me to go,” and stood up to leave, having apparently sat beside me only to tell me about his life and dispense his wisdom.
He turned to me then and said “Now, always remember—”
And at that moment an Amtrak diesel rolled past behind him just blaring, its overwhelming attempt to keep driver and pedestrian alike alive and three-dimensional. BAAAAAAAHHH-BAAAAHHHH-BAAAHHHHH.
My wise old friend continued gesticulating and dispensing his hard-earned scruples to me, but I could scarce make out every other word, as he raised his voice only a tenth to match the mighty roar of the train passing through. BAAAAAAAHHH-BAAAAHHHH-BAAAHHHHH.
“It was good talking to you,” he finally said, just as the train stopped its horns. Then he walked away.
I tell myself I heard the most important parts of what he’d said, something like “Always do the right thing.” But I wonder if I’ve just fooled myself so as to feel better that I certainly missed out on that one idea that would forever change my life.