In Forward Gear

A young African-American woman asked if I wanted her seat on the bus. I said no. Back home, I stared in the mirror -- do I look old?

Later on the same bus another young African-American woman offered her seat to an elderly man.

The reason for my bus ride (I don't like the buses here) was jury duty. Every year or so, I get a summons to appear, but I've never served on a jury and probably never will. Once the prosecutor in any criminal or civil case learns my profession, he asks for me to be dismissed.

So the whole exercise seems pointless. This time it was beyond pointless. "You've already been excused," the guy at the desk told me after my bus ride downtown. "last Thursday."

Okay, whatever. Back to the bus line in the other direction. This time nobody offered seats to anybody but a woman in a wheelchair backed up to let a confused-seeming man with two small dogs room to stand with them out of the aisle.

Entering Safeway, the automatic doors only opened part-way as a woman approached at the same moment I did. "It seems reluctant to let us in," I said, and she smiled. Buying lunch foods for my boys, who are here with me every night this week.

They both lift weights multiple times a day, with noticeable effect on their upper arms and shoulders. It's all male-stuff around here; my daughter is on a trip to snow country. "I'll miss you," she said as she kissed me good-bye.

The warm weather was swept aside by a cutting wind today. But buds are on the trees, blossoms have opened, flowers are out. The smell of spring is in the air -- lilac, wisteria, jasmine.

It's a time of renewal. For me, a time of relative calm, as I contemplate the changes in my life that are underway. No one remains static; what characterized me a few months ago is no longer entirely true.

Now I'm forward-looking. No more checking the rear-view mirror. What's gone is gone.

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