The Transistor Radio

Do not judge by appearances; a rich heart may be under a poor coat.

~ Scottish Proverb

I arrived early for my train. I had time to burn inside the station. Oh, how I love to watch all of the different types of people as they rush about amongst the smell of Dunkin Donuts coffee and dart in and out of the negative space that separates us from one another. It was early - 6:30 am, and a Sunday morning at that. People tend to move a little differently at that time of the day. 

I heard an unfamiliar sound; an odd sound that went Click! Clack, clack, clack. C-L-I-C-K! Click! Click! Click!. I craned my head like an alarmed chicken. I wanted to know what that sound was and where it was coming from. A woman came into view. I had seen her on occasion around town. She was pushing a grocery/laundry style cart, the kind you see a lot in the city, with one hand and pulling a twin cart with the other. What a struggle! I watched her as she patiently manipulated the first cart and gently cajoled the second one. It was as if she were dancing with the carts and sometimes the carts wanted to lead and sometimes they wanted to follow. The clicking and clacking were quite noisy. My brow furrowed. I wondered why the carts seemed so tricky to maneuver. I continued to observe the odd dance. Then I saw what was holding her back. 

The wheels on her carts had seen better days. Some of the wheels were down to their metal skeletons. One of the wheels had perfect rubber tread and another wheel only had HALF of the rubber tread on it. As if that wasn't bad enough, the large wheels which were located in the rear of the cart, were bowing in They looked as if one more rotation would snap them off of their axels! The woman who had entered the dance with the carts was pushing and pulling the carts with her own syncopated rhythm. She was muttering to herself and as she slowly began to disappear from my sight, I couldn't help but wonder about her. 

As I waited for my Metro North train to pull into the station so I could take off for my Grand Central Station photo shoot, I overheard a conversation which made me quiet myself and listen. Two women were in the seats closest to the stairs which lead to the front of tracks 4 and 5. I stood and gazed at the leaderboard to see exactly HOW delayed my train was going to be. I zoned out and began listening to a conversation that two women were having.

"Have you ever been shopping in Target? You know, that's where I bought you that pair of sweatpants that I gave you", the first woman began.

"I only went once, but they told me I couldn't bring my carts inside... even if I left them on the side. So I left my carts downstairs and I tried to look quickly for one of those little, portable transistor radios, but I couldn't find one so I left", replied the second woman.

"Oh, did you look in the electronics department? That place is huge. It has two floors, you know", said the first.

"No. I didn't even know they HAD an electronics department. Maybe I'll go some other time and I will be able to get my transistor radio. That's okay", mused the second.

My eavesdropping had gotten the best of me. I turned my head to see who was talking. The first woman was an average looking woman. The second woman, the one with the carts, was the woman I had seen a few minutes earlier. She was a homeless woman. Her hair billowed out from beneath a knit cap. Her rolling carts were filled to the top with a myriad of items. I was able to see an Earth Science textbook peering up at me from inside one of the carts. The outside of the carts had a multitude of plastic shopping bags hanging from them. Since they weren't clear, my imagination was busy running away with me about what could possibly be inside of them. 

The PA system called for attention and alerted me that my train was going to be next on track 4. As I descended the long stairway, I couldn't easily shake what I had heard or witnessed. Her world was contained in two, rickety carts that looked as if their wheels were going to snap under the pressure of all her possessions. A simple trip into Target was unreachable because she would have to leave her world behind and without it, she'd have nothing.

As my train departed the platform, my mind and heart were still back in the station. I needed to step forward and do something, but what? The wheels in my brain went into immediate motion. Time to come up with a plan.