Doodling Purple | “Sitting on a Bus with Strangers”

I was a bus rider for several years, but, with the exception of taking the streetcars in New Orleans for fun, it’s been a long, long time since I rode a city bus anywhere. 

I kind of miss the almost quiet commute. Traffic and road construction were someone else’s concern, so I took the time to grade papers, review lecture notes, daydream, or rest.

I especially enjoyed people-watching: mothers with babies struggling to load strollers onto the bus and the ever-present kind gentlemen who assisted them; school kids chatting about their day or “clowning” each other; men and women in business attire leaving their work behind and mentally planning dinner or a night out. The chance meet-up of neighbors and friends, excitedly greeting each other.

There were always crazy, interesting, and [sometimes] scary stories to report after a ride on the bus.

The latest postcard from Fran B, my Love Notes pal, reminded me of those bus rides and the many stories that were part of the experience. The postcard features the poem “Sitting on a Bus with Strangers” by Teresa Wyeth. The poem is part of Indiana’s Shared Spaces/Shared Voices public art project that infused Indianapolis’ public transportation system with literary art and spoken word performances written by Indiana writers. 

About the Image: The top image is one of the photo art pieces I crafted from the mums I shot at the end of September. You can see more mums art in last week’s [not-so] #WordlessWednesday post.

3 thoughts on “Doodling Purple | “Sitting on a Bus with Strangers”

  1. Janet from FL says:

    I remember the days back when I rode city buses a lot! I don’t really miss them though. I usually had to stand. I couldn’t do that now! But since I walk with a cane, maybe someone would let me take their seat.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Chandra Lynn says:

      I might be a little more nostalgic than I should be about riding the bus. There are many reasons I don’t take them today. But, the standing part was the worst–especially if one had to stand up during the ride across the Mississippi River. And certainly, yes, someone would give up a seat for you. There was usually no shortage of courtesy and kindness among the riders.

      Like

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