I said a while back that it seemed as if everytime I posted it was to honor the passing of someone special, either to the world ... or to me.

Well, here I go again. This time it is my wonderful, beloved mother. She left us in July, and I am still adjusting to the world with no mom in it. It is indeed a very different, even strange, place. But, all the times I tried to imagine her gone, which I never really could, my life was a landscape so absolutely foreign that I always abandoned such musings long before reaching any real conclusions.

Mom lived to the age of 93, which was a long, and yes, a most productive life. I was privileged to care for her in her last years, which brought me a great deal of joy while she was still with us, but an even greater void and deeper sadness after her passing.

I Know that my youngest brother (both my brothers have passed), came to escort mom over, and that she was greeted on the other side by many other relatives and friends. For that I am grateful and happy.

Suffice to say, I loved my mother more than words can express; she was a great lady, and I will miss her the rest of the time I am here in the earthly realm.

            A major perk of working for an airline then and now is flying for a reduced rate; which is exactly why I had signed on, and why I loved, my job. I was a customer service & sales agent, but probably would have found positives in mopping floors, as long as I could fly.

            Surprisingly, after more than a year and dozens of trips, I’d never had a problem getting on a flight … until one cold, snowy January night.

            Airline employees fly standby. After all regular passengers are boarded, if there are seats still available, airline staff have a shot at getting on the flight. This had worked well for me until that night when I was bumped from the last seat on the last flight from Atlanta to Boston, by a senior airline employee.

            That rare set of circumstances set the stage for an experience that would impact my thinking on homelessness and the homeless.

            It was after midnight before I’d been bumped; tried other flights; given up; and called friends in Boston with the bad news.  

            Although there’d been some cancelled flights due to the bad weather, there hadn’t been too many, so only a token number of passengers would be spending the night at Hartsfield. That had me a little nervous. I knew there were always homeless people that hung out in bus, railroad and even airline terminals.

            On the way into the airport earlier, there had been a few hanging around outside. They were matted with dirt, didn’t exactly have the aroma of a rose garden, and had some of the tell-tale signs of addictions; either to alcohol or drugs.

            I always traveled with plenty of singles for tips, and was quite a few bills short by the time I made my way into the airport. 

            People so obviously suffering always made me feel wretched. I wasn’t exactly rolling in dough, but in comparison, my cup was running over. And, I always felt that there but for the grace of God.

            What made me nervous was the aggression I had seen displayed by some beggars at times, therefore being pretty much alone in a huge airline terminal didn’t exactly inspire me with feelings of security. As tired as I was, I knew I couldn’t stay up until flight time the following morning, which is why I felt so vulnerable.

            I confirmed the departure time for the morning flight with the ticket agent as she closed the desk for the night. She confirmed that the flight would leave from the same gate; then, finished with the closing, she wished me good-night and left. I felt completely alone.

            Glancing surreptitiously around for any lurking figures, I slung my purse over my shoulder and pulling my travel bag behind me headed off in search of what I considered a safe nook.

            In most gate areas there were just a few, widely scattered passengers slouched down in their seats … most of them already asleep. I stopped for a moment to consider my options.

            Suddenly, I heard a throat being cleared behind me.

            I spun around and came face to face with the only security person I’d seen in the last half hour or so. This of course, was long before 911 and security wasn’t even in the same ballpark as today.

            “Can I help you, ma’am?” He asked.

            “Oh, good evening. Ah, well … maybe you can,” I stumbled.

            “I have to be here until morning. All the concessions and ticket desks are closed. Any idea where it’ll be safe to stay the night? Don't say a hotel.”

            “Well, you’re pretty safe in any of the terminals. There’s security … like me around, ya know.”

            “Yes, I know about the security, but I can hardly keep my eyes open right now. I know as soon as I sit down for awhile, I’m going to drop off.”

            “In that case, the best I can do is direct you to the vending machines where you can get some hot coffee,” he said. 

            “Thanks,” I replied, just a little irritated at his unfunny joke and his nonchalance.

            “Well, I’ll be passing through from time to time tonight. So, see you later,” he answered, already on his way down the empty corridor I’d just left.

            “Yea,”  I answered as I continued walking in the opposite direction.

            As I rounded the corner, I could see a gate area at the far end of the terminal, and miracle of miracles, there were plenty of people  … almost a crowd there.

            Heading in their direction, I hurried my steps. I figured, either these people were all traveling together or, maybe they had the same ‘safety in numbers’ idea I did.

            There were only a couple of seats left, one of them in the first row. I made a beeline for it, plopped down and parked my bag. The group was a mixed bag: several Hispanics, a few blacks, the rest white. 

            “Hi,” I greeted the silver-haired lady next to me.

          “Good evening, dear,” she answered politely with a wisp of a Scottish brogue.

            “Are you all traveling together?” I asked, sweeping my hand behind me to encompass the fifteen or so people seated around us.

            “Oh no. Well, a couple of us are, but mostly we’re just waiting together.”

            “I see. Well, good evening everybody!” I said raising my voice so they could all hear.

            “All of you are a sight for sore eyes. I was nervous about being alone here tonight.”

            “Well, we’re glad you saw us over here. We’ll look out for you,” a kind of youngish black man answered.

            “Thanks,” I replied, settling into the surprisingly cushy seat. I could finally relax.

            The next thing I knew, we were all talking about the weather, the latest political controversy in Atlanta, and everyone’s destinations in the morning. 

            I had used my bag as a footrest, and sometime during the early-morning conversation had dropped off just as I knew I would.

            When I awoke, I had my head on the lady next to me, Mrs. Sheffield’s shoulder.    

            “Oh, I’m sorry,” I said, straightening up and yawning broadly.

            “Quite alright, dear. You slept really hard. How do you feel?”

            “Believe it or not, refreshed,” I answered, pulling myself together.

            I noticed some of the traveler’s had left already.

            “What time is your flight,” I asked, glancing at my watch.

            “Oh, not for a while yet,” she answered.

            “Well, I have about an hour or so before mine. Just time to run by the ladies’ room, have some coffee and check in.”

            As I stood and brushed at my crumpled slacks and sweater … “I want to thank you guy’s for taking me in last night.”

            “No problem,” some of them replied in unison.

            For some reason, I felt like giving each of them a hug.  So, that’s just what I did. Some of their names I remembered from the night before, some I didn’t, but I went from row to row and gave them all a hug, wished them a safe flight, and a happy new year. They wished me the same.

            I saved the last hug for Mrs. Sheffield, then made my misty-eyed way back down the long, now crowded terminal. It was always a little sad to meet people in passing; people that I liked, but would never see again.  

            Stopping in the restroom a short distance from them, I washed my face, brushed my teeth, applied fresh make-up and combed my hair. I’d have to hustle to get a coffee before they called the flight. 

            As I hurried from the restroom, I collided with someone just outside the door.

            When I looked up, it was the security officer from the evening before.

            “Wow, excuse me!” I said.

            “Oh hey, it’s you!” 

            “Yes, it’s me. Made it through the night just fine as it turns out,” I said, with just a hint of sarcasm.

            “Yea, I was a little worried when I came back around last night and saw who you were sitting with.  And sound asleep,” he added, with what sounded like amazement.”

            “What do you mean … who I was sitting with?”

            “Yea, if you hadn’t been with them, they’d been out.”

            “What are you talking about!?” I asked, getting impatient with his pompous rambling.

            “The homeless people you were sitting with … over there,” He pointed to my little group.                      

            Before he finished speaking, I began to turn … it felt like in slow motion … and looked back at the group I had spent the night among.

            They were still sitting there. Waiting.

            For the first time I noticed the shopping bags instead of real luggage; the clean, yet frayed, thin coats; the run-down shoes; the watchfulness for unkind authority.   

            I also noticed the intelligence, the dignity … the looks that stated … “I may be temporarily down on my luck, but I’m still me”  … I noticed the looks of hope. 

            Suddenly, the boom of the intercom as my flight was called for boarding.

           Eyes brimming with tears I fumbled in my purse, took out some bills, handed them to the security guard …

           “Please give this to the silver-haired lady down there in the front row. Ask her if she will buy breakfast for everyone. She’ll understand.”

           The guard took the money and looking from the money to me with a dumbfounded expression, finally shrugged and headed down to them.

            With a last look back at my group, I ran for the flight.

            That was years ago, but I remember that night as if it happened yesterday. After the passage of time and some thought, it came to me why I hadn’t noticed anything strange about my group. It was simple. I wasn’t supposed to notice. They were just a group of people ... waiting for their luck to change.

###

In my last post, I stated that some of the extreme rections to the healthcare legislation and the current administration is a result of fear. Fear that times are achanging: fear that the country is moving into a future that doesn't perfectly mirror the past: fear that if others gain, someone must be losing. I call this irrational fear because although things are changing, it isn't necessarily a bad thing. Change is inevitable, so the battle to maintain the status quo is ultimately a losing one.

But fear is real for all of us. Some of our fears are different, some identical. Some of us are afraid of dark streets late at night (I certainly don't call that irrational); some fear tiny bugs that couldn't possibly harm us; some fear certain animals; others fear speaking in public .... and on and on.  

I think there's two kinds of fear ... positive and negative.

The positive fear is the kind that comes to our aid in certain situations as a sort of self-preservation mechanism. Some people might even call it intuition: Don't walk down that dark street after its dark; that bridge shakes too much when I go across, so I'll go the long way round; that snarling Pit Bull could mean serious trouble, cross the street. 

Then, there's negative fear. The kind that paralyzes you. Keeps you from doing something that you might really want to do, or need to do. An example for me was driving halfway across country. It was from Chicago to Boston by myself, and I was really terrified.

I hadn't been driving long. Had actually never driven beyond the city limits, talk about cross country. But it was something I wanted to do, so I controlled the fear. I acknowledged it, then put it behind me. I refused to let it consume me, or force me to change my plans. I made the drive, and really enjoyed it ... except for the time I was rerouted by some truckers to avoid an unusual Spring blizzard and ended up driving over the Alleghany Mountains. That wasn't fun.

The point is that sometimes we have to man ... or woman up, and confront what it is making us afraid. If it's a negative fear, we must confront it and not allow it to ruin something that would be a positive experience. If it's a positive fear ... listening might be a good idea.

I usually try to stay away from political discussion, but what the heck. I really feel compelled to comment on the extraordinary recent events.

It's amazing that anyone could rationally object to helping American citizens achieve adequate healthcare. The argument that healthcare reform is a big government takeover is absurd in view of Medicare, Social Security, etc. This is nothing new in terms of government stepping in to fill a void in the security and well-being of its citizens.
 
I agree with pundits that say the rage exhibited by some protesters to healthcare reform seem over the top. In short, their vitriolic reaction, seems seriously out of proportion to its cause, and that perhaps there is another reason behind these extreme responses. 

It is a fact that fear and lack of understanding is often the facilitator of hate. In this case, I believe there is a fear that life in American society is changing; a fear accompanied by a sense that a way of life is being lost. My response to that kind of fear is to point out that change is inevitable. Embrace it. Hatred and violence is hardly a rational response to a society that is moving into the future. 

On the other hand, if objection to healthcare reform really is the reason for all this negative response, then my suggestion is that a spirit of positive cooperation would go a lot further toward meeting a goal of possibly changing the legislation. After all, it is difficult to take people described as "the lunatic fringe" seriously.  

Just a thought.