Speedline Rosie

Here is the story that fell out of me as a teen. I have always been struck by how people can make a lasting impact on our lives in such a short period of time. Has there ever been someone in your life for a brief time that made a big change? That brief time might be five minutes every Friday, or a day or a week of togetherness. I'd already had that experience so many times by age 17. This story is my attempt to capture that in words. Enjoy...

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It was just another Tuesday and I was making my fifth full run of the morning. I work on one of the Speedlines that run from New Hersey to Philadelphia. I have for about ten years, ever since I got out of the construction business back in '75. I had to retire because of a back injury. And I was just too old. I was making my turn around in Lindenwald and had just enough time to run down to the vendor and grab a cup of coffee. I also bought a bag of lollipops for the youngsters that like to ride in the front seat.

I had just gotten settled in my seat when I heard the passengers begin to board. I turned to see if any of the regulars had gotten on yet when I saw an elderly woman board the train. I stared in surprise, for she was the spitting image of my dear wife Edna. On a second look, I realized how silly that was; Edna had been dead for about eight years. This woman made her way down the aisle with a rather large and ragged looking purse in the crook of one arm, and a giant bag full of balls of yarn and knitting needles over the other shoulder. She was wearing a grey skirt and pink blouse and pink overcoat to protect her from the chilly fall weather. She walked up to the front seat and as she was sitting down, I was able to get a better look at her. She seemed very fragile, but as she settled herself I detected an inner core of strength in this woman.

"Good morning, ma'am. I haven't seen you here before. My name's Jack.", I said.

She turned to me with a quiet, friendly smile and said, "And good morning to you, Jack. I'm Rosie."

At that point, some of my regular passengers had boarded, including Andy, a student in college.

"Hey Jack! How's it going?"

"O.K, Andy, how about you?"

"I've got a killer test in my psychology class today."

"Well, good luck!"

"Thanks Jack!"

With that, he made his way to the back of the train.

"I'm sorry about that, Miss Rosie, he's a rather enthusiastic young fellow." I stopped when I saw her chuckling.

"What?", I asked

"It's just that I haven't been called Miss Rosie in close to sixty years! It makes me feel like a young girl again."

I felt an immediate affection for this woman. With her laughter and the blush decorating her cheeks, I could easily imagine her at eighteen. I got ready to leave, ringing the bell to signal the closing of the doors. As we started off, I turned to Rosie and said, "Where are you headed?"

"Well, I have to run over to Lady of Lourdes for some tests of some sort."

"Nothing serious, I hope."

I felt comfortable talking with Rosie, we had developed an instant rapport. During that seventeen minute ride, our conversation sounded like that of two old friends catching up on each others news. By the time I reached Ferry Ave. and Rosie got off the train, I could detect the worry that she was trying to hide. I sat watching her go down the steps and thought back over the conversation we just had. What an amazing woman. Unaware that time was passing, I heard my student friend yell, "Jack! Are you waiting for the train to start itself?"

I quickly shook the thought of Rosie from my mind.

As the days passed, I chatted with other people, and handed out many lollipops, but I didn't hit it off with anyone like I did with Rosie. By the time next Tuesday rolled around, I was kind of anxious to talk with Rosie, and was wondering if she'd show up again.

Part of me was telling myself I was being silly, getting all worked up over one conversation, but with Rosie it just felt right. She was the closest thing I've had to a friend in years besides my cat, Joe. I pulled into Lindenwald on my fifth run and sat waiting. I felt like a teenager on his first date. Passengers began to board, filing to the front and back of the car, but still no Rosie. I was crushed. Just because she was on the train once didn't mean she'd be on again. Finally, I had been sitting there long enough. I rang the bell and began to close the doors when I heard a familiar voice calling.

"Oh wait! Please wait!"

Sure enough, it was Rosie, clutching her bags and running toward the train. I was so happy I thought for sure I'd float up to the ceiling or something, but instead, a smile fixed itself to my face and wouldn't leave. "Well hello there Rosie! How nice to see you!"

"Hello Jack! My goodness! I thought I was going to miss the train. Thank you so much for waiting."

"Now we couldn't very well leave without you, could we? How have you been?"

"Oh Jack, I've been so terribly lonely this week. My neighbor Maude has been ill, and the only people I've had to talk to were the mailman and the paperboy."

"What about your children? Haven't they called?"

"Oh yes, my daughter Betsey's son called. His birthday is coming up in a couple of weeks and he was talking about this new super speedway he wanted. I'm afraid he's going to be a little disappointed in the sweater I'm knitting him."

"Nonsense, I'm sure he'll love anything you have for him. Besides, if he doesn't get the speedway for his birthday, he can always ask for it for Christmas."

"Yes, I suppose that's true. Speaking of the holidays, what are you doing on Saturday?"

"My congregation always has a big Thanksgiving feast at my church. What about you?"

We always gather at my son's house. Albert's wife is a wonderful cook."

We had reached the Collingswood station when I realized she was going back to the hospital. "Are they running more tests today, Rosie?", I asked gently.

"Why no. In fact, they've found some sort of a condition. They said if I come every week, they'll be able to treat it and hopefully make it go away."

The news hit me like a ton of bricks. Rosie got up to leave,

"Rosie, do you know what it is?"

She looked at me sadly and said, "Cancer."

I felt totally numb, and spent the rest of the day just going through the motions.

For the next week, I felt flat, and gray, and sad. I couldn't understand how one person could affect my life so much, yet she had become so important to me. On Tuesday, Rosie got on the train as usual, loaded down with her purse and knitting bag and covered now with a heavy gray winter coat. She looked the same, acted the same, and talked the same. Maybe the treatments would make it go away. We spent the ride talking and laughing with each other. When she got off the train, she turned back and waved to me, and I felt sure that Rosie couldn't be sick, She certainly didn't seem like she had cancer.

To my surprise, Rosie boarded my train the next day. After sitting down, she turned to me and said, "The doctors say it's getting worse. They want to see me every day."

For once the trip was silent. As I pulled into her stop, and she got up to leave, I took her hand and said, "Rosie, I'll be thinking of you."

My happiness at seeing Rosie every day was dampened considerably by the reason why. I joked with her the next day, telling her she was saving me money. Now I don't have to buy lollipops for the children that sat in the front seat. Unless, of course, she wanted lollipops.

Over the next two weeks, I could tell the treatments were taking their toll on her. She seemed to age years in just that short time. Her hair fell out, so she took to wearing a pink cap she had knitted herself. She told me she was glad it was winter, because no one thought it strange for her to be wearing a hat. My heart ached for her, for the pain and torment she was going through.

There are just some people who become so important in one's life that they cannot imagine life without them. That's the way it was with Rosie and me. Now I have to imagine life without Rosie. She hasn't been on the train for the past three days. This morning, as I was making my fifth full turn around in Lindenwald on my fifth full run, I had just enough time to run down and buy lollipops.

Goodbye Speedline Rosie, I'll be thinking of you.

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It's been a long time since I've read that story. That thought still resonates so strongly with me today. There are just some people who become so important in our lives, and that contact doesn't have to be much. Jack and Rosie were both lonely, and their connection nourished them both.

The PATCO Speedline runs through Westmont, NJ. My family moved to New Jersey in 1980 from Indianapolis, IN. I was 10 at the time, and I lived in Westmont until I left for college in 1988. As a teen in the 80's, I used to take the Speedline into Philadelphia regularly. Sometimes with my friends for fun, but more often alone. I saw a counselor in center city. I had lots of good reasons for needing to see a counselor. Looking back on my story, I can see my longing for a nourishing connection shining through. I didn't recognize it at the time.

I also see the seeds of my love for coffee shops in this story. Coffee shops are ripe with opportunities for brief and meaningful moments. I spent a decade managing coffee shops. It didn't take me long to recognize and value the gift of someone including you in their daily routine. You know what?

It doesn't take much to make an impact on someone's day. A smile, a warm hello, some eye contact all can make such a difference. And you don't have to be behind the counter at a coffee shop to participate in those moments of connection with others. Where can you connect with people today?