I remember waiting for the bus, waiting for the train, waiting to listen to my Walkman or Discman CD player – that’s right, not an iPod. I thought about this on my drive to work this morning. I remember when I moved from Boston back to the Philadelphia area. I couldn’t wait to drive my car to work and park in a parking lot. Not a generic pay lot up a few blocks from work, but an honest to goodness free lot – free for all the working people of the building to park in any space they chose, ah freedom.
Here, there are bus stops on my way to work. Many times I’m either behind the bus and need to pass, or ahead of the bus and want to stay there. I have one vivid memory of taking the bus to work. The bus ride was rather uneventful, but what was memorable was the surrounding circumstances I found myself in at the time. This was in Jersey City, NJ. It was winter 1990 and I was attending classes full-time at NYU during the day, and working as a security guard overnight from midnight to 8 a.m. I did this five days a week. I tried to catch up on my sleep over the weekends, but some weekends I got a gig as a video production assistant for an industrial video or a wedding. Working one video shoot, I could make $125 for the day. Previously, during the fall of 1989, I worked on campus in the Dramatic Writing department assisting with their audio/video needs. I checked movie VHS tapes in and out, and helped with a video production class that writers took so they could see other aspects of the filmmaking process. That’s actually the first place I saw “The Apartment” directed by Billy Wilder with Jack Lemon and Shirley MacLaine. It’s one of my favorite films and in our DVD library now.
From time to time, I also had to make copies of film scripts that were shared among the students. When it came time to make copies of the third draft of David Lynch’s “Blue Velvet” script, I made a copy for myself. I still have it on my bookshelf. I was really into David Lynch back then and it was very exciting to read an early draft that had many scenes that weren’t in the final cut of the film. Remember, this was long before special edition DVDs with deleted scenes and all the extras. Not to mention, I was an aspiring filmmaker myself and always looking to learn more. I will say it was weird but very liberating to be in a place that respected film so much. Some classes I attended you’d come in Tuesday and watch a film like “Bonnie and Clyde,” “Mon Oncle,” “Bringing Up Baby” or “The Rules of the Game” (1939) and return on Thursday and hear a lecture about the film. Then discuss it in a smaller class lead by the instructor’s assistant. I remember writing a paper that focused on the differences in the western genre employed in “My Darling Clementine” versus “The Searchers.” It was quite a different world than any other I had experienced, really a story unto itself. By the way, I got an “A” on the paper.
Although you may think I’ve digressed from the story. I’m developing my character’s motive to do almost anything to stay in school. You see, not only was I paying rent, I was paying for school – what the loans and scholarship didn’t cover, paying to take the train everyday into the city, paying for film supplies, paying for food. I was paying. While my on-campus job was great, it didn’t pay enough. I started working the overnight shift as a security guard. It was a company I had worked for while going to community college, where I got my first taste of video and film, my first taste of what I really wanted to do. The main office was in Hackensack and they had contracts with companies all over northern New Jersey. At the time, I was driving a 1965 Oldsmobile. If it rained, this car would not start for anything. This one particular day it snowed and you guessed it – wouldn’t start. I called work and they said if I took the bus to the office in Hackensack, someone would drive me to the building where I worked. The bus was crowded. I wasn’t even sure where I was going, but when the stop for Hackensack came, I got off. I managed to find the office a few blocks from the bus stop. Let me tell you, those nylon uniform pants do not hold back a cold wind, something I would really come to find out once I got into the Coast Guard.
Like I said earlier, there wasn’t much at all to the bus ride itself, but the reasons why I took the bus were quite eventful for me. Later after the spring semester ended, I couldn’t keep up with the pace of working and going to school full time. I did not return to NYU the next fall. I guess you could say I embarked on a journey of sorts. It was a journey that eventually lead me to the Coast Guard, and at the time it felt like a last ditch effort. I remember if I hadn’t enlisted in the Coast Guard, I had no idea what I was going to do, nothing. At the time I felt like I failed, but I can tell you now the Coast Guard ended up being one of the best decisions of my life, after asking Lago to marry me of course.
The Coast Guard got me back on my feet. By becoming a public affairs specialist, I honed my writing skills, I learned black and white photography – from shooting to developing and printing my own photos, and more importantly, I had my first exposure to the Internet. Funny the choices we make and how they affect our lives. I had always loved computers, but hated the programming that was required back in the 1980s. I loved movies and writing, but maybe I didn’t want it as bad as I thought. Then the little old World Wide Web comes along and marries computers with text and images. There’s a quote in “Almost Famous” that always inspires me. It’s actually a quote from Goethe, “Be bold and mighty forces will come to your aid.” The Web is certainly a mighty force in today’s world and has brought me many things and experiences I wouldn’t have otherwise had. My work on the Web paid for the computer I’m typing on now and helped pay for the house where my wife and I live. Would I have met Lago if not for the Internet, who’s to say, but we did meet via Match.com. The Web has given many things to many people, but because it brought Lago to me, it has given me the best gift of all.
Those many years ago in New Jersey, driving home from work in the early morning hours after trying to stay awake all night, I listened to Howard Stern on the radio. He made me laugh at a time when I didn’t have a lot to laugh about. Now that Howard is on Sirius satellite radio, I listen to him every morning on my drive to work. You can say this or that about him, but my old pal makes me laugh to this day. As I drive past the bus stops on my way to work, I think back on the journey that has led me here. A journey I wouldn’t change for anything, because you change one thing and perhaps I don’t meet Lago. The journey makes us who we are – living, learning, caring, loving. I’m not the first to bring these sentiments to the surface and certainly not the last, but this was one of my journeys, one of my bus stops where I got on for a ride.
Robins arrived earlier this week. It almost seemed like a swarm of them the one morning buzzing all around the house. This afternoon they were all over the place again. The photo above is facing the street from our house and looking to the right.
