The Man with the Newspaper
My apartment is located quite close to a major thoroughfare in Silicon Valley, El Camino Real (translated as “the royal road”). Since I don’t have a car, I most often get around on my bicycle, but sometimes the bus is more practical. In an area with mediocre bus service, El Camino is home to the only 24-hours-a-day, 7-days-a-week bus line in the Valley. Running as often as every 12 minutes during peak hours, route 22 is the easiest way to get from one side of the Valley to the other on public transportation. Because of its relatively significant length (25 miles, over 100 stops, and a two-hour trip from beginning to end), its route along a seemingly endless strip of commercial property, and the fact that it runs all night, it’s also a popular route for homeless people. Some ride the bus all night, scraping together the $6.00 for a day pass and traveling from one end of the Valley to another. There’s a reason that the route has the nickname of “Hotel 22.”
Even during the day, there are a good number of homeless aboard the bus. After more than a year of riding the bus consistently, I’ve begun to recognize people. There’s one person who is particularly notable because he won’t let anyone see his face. To accomplish this, he keeps a newspaper that he holds over his face, far too close to read anything on the pages. This morning, I spotted him as he was boarding the bus, fumbling for change and searching with his hands for the location of the farebox.
I’ve never talked to the man with the newspaper. In fact, I’m not even sure of his (or her?) gender. He sits quietly on the bus, waiting for his destination. (He must rely on the automated announcements to know where to get off.) But I do wonder why he won’t allow others to see his face. Maybe it’s disfigured in some way, and he’s embarrassed, or maybe there’s a different explanation. But what’s certain is that hiding his face affects his life in significant ways. I don’t know how he earns his money (if only for bus fare), but it can’t be easy when his every interaction is conducted behind a piece of newsprint.
While it’s unfair to compare this man’s predicament to my life situation in any way, I do see parallels to a larger life lesson. We all have barriers that limit what we accomplish. Some of these are physical: for example, it’s no secret that most athletes are much taller than average; at a decidedly average 5-foot-7, I’m unlikely to be playing basketball in the NBA anytime soon. But far more of our barriers are mental. We let emotions like fear, inadequacy, and uncertainty prevent us from reaching our potential. Instead of taking action to improve our situation, we let our dreams slip away, thinking that we don’t have what it takes to realize them. We let our imperfections get in the way.
I don’t know if the homeless man who rides the 22 will ever shed his newspaper. I hope so: even if he has some sort of physical abnormality, his situation can only improve when he summons the courage to allow himself to see. In the same way, I’m done with letting fear and insecurity keep me from realizing my potential. I’m not entirely sure what that means, but I’m slowly figuring it out. One thing’s for sure: I’ve been given too much to let it all go to waste. And I don’t intend to.
