A Note on "Tuesday, Nearly Midnight"

This post is in reference to the previous post, which you can see by easily scrolling down, or easily clicking here. 

Yes, I recognize the dehumanizing aspect of calling some of my characters Bum 1, Bum 2, and Urine (as opposed to the more humanizing name for Portia, her real name, or at least the name she gave me). I did not have any direct contact with these fellas, and was really just an unintentional (and non-judgmental) observer but wanted to differentiate them from each other somehow. I wrote that post, because it was just something that struck me (stories about homeless or "crazy" people on the El are nothing new, and I'm certain I've experienced more bizarre situations) and I wanted to share the story of these three men and their brief interaction.

Homelessness is an issue I think often about. When I was younger and went to Comiskey or the United Center, I always wanted my dad to give money to the homeless people, especially the street musicians, the bucket drummers and sax players playing da da da daaaaa da HEY! and the like. If I had a couple quarters in my pocket, I would always throw it their way. When I wanted to be a pro athlete (age six or so), I thought how one day I would be rich and be able to give all these guys money. It's an easy pipe dream as you get into your dad's luxury car, fall asleep on 90/94, and arrive safely back in the garage of a Glenview home.

Little did I know until I'd grown up a bit 1) how much of an epidemic homelessness is 2) how shitty it feels to play on the street and be perpetually ignored.

I can't tell you what the three guys on the train do with their lives. Myself, like society, continue to marginalize them as outcasts, people not worthy of knowing. But, granted, if three coked-out financial businessmen were on the train, I'd call them Suit 1, Suit 2, and Sniffles. Is that just train society? I remember in a Freshman year writing course in college we had to write an ethnography of a specific place. This involved visiting the same location a few times, making observations, interviewing people, and writing about it. An example of a previous student's work our teacher gave us involved the Red Line. The writer of that paper concluded how no one likes to talk to anyone else on the train, how we just get holed up in our own little worlds with iPods or reading material and ignore the actual lives of people and THINGS THAT ARE HAPPENING around us. Is that inherent to train culture though? Do I need to know about every stranger I pass by? Generally, I'm introverted. I don't like talking to people I know if it's avoidable sometimes.

I know this turned from a note to a ramble. I guess I'm just done with the train this winter and need the weather to get nicer so I can get back on my bike. I'm not sure my heart can take being on the train; I'll start giving everyone a quarter and pat myself on the back for being a good liberal, though neither of us will be better off.