Missed connections, on and off of the bus

I ride the bus as much as possible, partly because I like the comfort and security of being driven by a trained professional. I credit freedom from driving with helping me see why our society is threadbare and how to mend it.

Recently, I walked from the Goodwill store in Guilderland to shop at the nearby Market 32. Don’t try this dangerous trek yourself. At 5:17, I found I’d missed the last bus headed east. Because I’m lucky enough to be capable of it, I walked to Crossgates to catch the bus home.

It was raining. I had one sock wet and felt a keen, worrisome sense of isolation from the many automobileencased people speeding by. Still, I was enjoying myself. Gorgeous light effects eventually filtered through, contrasting with the apocalyptic cloudscape.

I passed a shop selling pool supplies and a hardware store that offered pool testing. I was reminded that many humans in this region prefer not only to work hard enough to own personal transportation and drive it themselves but also, in some special cases, to work hard enough to own a personal swimming facility and maintain it themselves.

There are people unwilling to rub elbows with certain other people. They like those people not to be around as they shop. They apparently wouldn’t even want their children immersed in the same water as the children of those people.

One joy of civilization lies in feeling safe among strangers. The joy provides the safety, because it keeps everyone calm. The less we avail ourselves of the joy, the more tenuous and expensive the safety becomes. Scotia was ready to cancel its fireworks display this year over security concerns, until it decided to use pandemic funds to pay for patrols. What happens next year?

In scant bus service paired with gleaming new electric car chargers, I see a squandered opportunity to heal apartness. Apartness requires more resource consumption, creating scarcity, begetting strife, driving people to crave apartness. It’s a vicious cycle.

A fabric with strands pulled apart is called “threadbare.” If you question the wisdom of coming together but value the example of Jesus, please ask yourself, “WWJD?” Where would Jesus dwell? Why would Jesus drive? Whom would Jesus deny?

There may be a simple first step to mending our society: Just ride the bus as much as you can.