1 Train, Uptown
A Regular.
We didn’t start speaking until we became well accustomed with sharing the 6pm 1, Uptown. For me, it was always the end of a long day, for him, the beginning of a longer night.
It started with a comment about my tattoos.
Neither positive or negative, it set the ground work for everything else he had to tell me.
He was/is the father of 6 daughters. Despite his mothers insistence he needed a son, he felt completely fulfilled by his offspring. He never mentioned his wife, or the mother of his children.
I always found that strange, but never felt it was a subject to be pushed.
I never doubted anything he told me, but marvelled at his resilience as he recounted tales of teen pregnancy, crime, assault, imprisonment, drugs… his daughters had certainly tested his devotion, and means (financial as well and mental), as a parent.
Most surprising to me, was that he openly accepted his responsibility in the unconventional paths each of his children had taken.
He’d brought them up in a tough Puerterican neighbourhood. He’d worked nights as a ganitor for 35 years. They’d been left (alot of the time) to bring themselves up.
My one question was regardless of the intricasies of their upbringing, if i was in awe of his devotion and love for them, how had that not been enough to encourage them seek to better themselves for both his and their own benefit?
His response, was that their unquestioning prioritising of family, failing all else, was all he could ever ask or hope for, and he was assured of that everyday.
July 25th 2007
