rose of framingham

don't know Rose of Framingham. & she doesn't know me. but we'd pass by each other sometimes, someplace in Framingham. Massachusetts. the first town my family moved to in MA, after NJ, although that was a very long time ago.

I'd see Rose, and I'd like to think that Rose'd see me. on a few times on my commute. she'd be there, always with her cart. her cart full of stuff. and I would admire her. I would admire her for how tough she was. I would think I was tough; but was I tough as Rose; no way! who knows from whatever country Rose was. could be Africa, could be Latin America. Didn't think she was a native North American though. she had the look about her of someone who'd been a very long way. a very long way indeed and she was grateful to be still holding on. as I was. and so a couple of times I'd see her way over here! way over there! with her cart always so full of stuff! she seemed to be constantly amazed at the wealth of stuff that people would just-plain-throw-out! in this country.

I'd see her miles & miles away from where I'd last seen her. persistence of a sort rarely if ever seen. cripes, she's pretty old! how can she do it? one foot front of the other.

in her face you could just see it. she was no dummy. outside herself she could see plainly that others thought low thoughts about her, that she was no better somehow than detritus washed up upon the shore of human aspiration! she could care less. why should she care what those poor misguided creatures ("they ain't fools, just misguided. gods glory is in this day and I that glory plainly see) say?

then finally one day -- it was totally a lark. that whole summer & season I was on the hook to work in Arlington (for a good buddy, bless his soul) that whole time of how-many-months? anyway -- whew this could get to be a long story. Framingham was on my way almost everytime. there on occasion I'd see Rose, and I would be so proud of her. I'd swear aloud. What resolve! Such perseverance against all odds & all of society's idiocies! Take all your bloody conquests and throw them in the ditch! I'll take the courage of Rose of Framingham over them, any day.

So, finally one day I was driving that first part of my commute to work, through Framingham, on a stretch of road where at that early hour nobody really was out yet. I could see a couple of blocks ahead and there were no cars, and in my rearview there was a lot of space still, and there coming toward me on the left side of the road was this formidable black woman pushing an overflowing shopping cart. My only chance -- how I manipulated out my phone for the photo I have no idea

-- "HI! WHAT'S YOUR NAME? I call out.

-- "Rose!"

-- "I'm John, Rose!"

And that was that. There we went, Rose & I. Two people crossing paths, and connecting for a second or maybe for longer, alongside the cosmos. She was so delighted. Can't you see it in her face? I couldn't believe my photo took. Recognition. Recognition of humanity. Of shared experience. Of being on this planet together, and delighted about it, though seemingly so far apart.

May the light of heaven shine always on Rose of Framingham.

I shed some tears, honestly. So moved I was by this casual encounter, the merest glimpse of another human being, as it were. Who knows though? Rose of Framingham could have about the most original DNA back to Africa of anybody on the entire earth! If so then maybe somebody's sending me a sign that -- hey, you think nothing out of the ordinary is in order for today! but if you just enlarge your framework you'll find that none stand alone.

Actually I shed more than some tears at that point in my life. In fact if there was a day without tears of some kind I'd be surprised. Not to worry though! I *almost* always arrived ready-to-work! After a good cry I felt much much better. It was kind of along the lines of vomiting. Nothing like a good crying jag to make me feel grateful that I could still feel something. Something; anything. Anything at all. I'd rather cry my heart out than to feel numb or feel dull and dreary. A dampened life -- that it seemed so many of my compatriots in their vehicles of insulated steel, or maybe it was just me? -- so gladly embraced. Because when the pain of being different is too much to bear then it's better just to blend in.