As You Like It: Ode to Sheila

As I told you earlier I’m a sucker for surveys, so every few months I find myself answering questions about the commuter rail. I must admit though that the train surveys are disappointing. Unlike the other forms that I fill out that ask different questions every time, the commuter rail always asks the same questions. They’re only interested in whether fares have been collected, stops announced, trains cleaned and whether cars are crowded. There’s never a place for comments.

I guess I’m not the only one who noticed the lack of comment space because there was a note on this latest survey stating that they don’t ask for comments because it would take too long to read them. From what I’ve seen every morning and afternoon, we’re a fairly placid crowd — no real trouble makers in the group — but you never know what darkness lurks in the hearts of men. Especially when you’re forced to check boxes even when they don’t tell the whole story and there’s no room for additions.

For instance, even though I check the yes box as to whether announcements are made at every stop, there’s no place to tell them that those announcements are not always understandable. So yes I can hear the conductor saying something but I have no idea what he’s saying sometimes. For all I know he can be telling me last night’s lottery results. And as for the cleanliness box, litter is lumped together with messy windows, so how can I tell them that I don’t mind the occasional soda cup but not being able to see out the window drives me crazy?

Sometimes I wonder if they’ll ever ask us what questions we would like to see on these surveys. For instance I would love for them to ask me about the general ambiance of the stations that I wait in. I would tell them about how a person could freeze to death at Back Bay station in the winter and die from the heat in the summer.

I would also love for them to ask me about the times when a train is delayed for an hour and no one bothers to tell you why. Or why there are times when all the seats are taken and yet entire cars are closed off. But the subject that I would really like to get into on these surveys is the ticket taker that rides with me every morning and evening. I never see any questions about that. And to tell you the truth, I didn’t really care about it until I met Sheila.

Who is Sheila you might ask? Sheila was the lovely ticket taker who rode in my car each morning and evening. Every day at 7:08, sunny, rainy, hot, freezing, tsunamis or locusts, she would open the car doors and call out, “Good morning everyone!” And I would always smile back and answer, “Good morning,” even if it wasn’t. In the beginning I would just listen to her conversations with passengers, as she asked after them and their families, or laughed at a joke or simply listened to a passenger’s problem. I actually found myself envying the people she spoke with. Then one day after checking my pass she said, “I’ve noticed that you ride the train everyday. Let me introduce myself; my name is Sheila.”

I happily told her my name and then every day after that we spoke and usually laughed a bit. When I got off in the morning I would wish her a good day, then get on in the afternoon when we would both sigh and say, “Another day, another dollar.” I found myself looking forward to her cheer in the dark mornings and on the days when she wasn’t there I felt bereft. Eventually I told her that I managed a GED program in Boston and we would talk about that. When she was talking to other passengers I found myself listening to her talk about her kids and her holiday plans and the time she went to pick her sister up at the airport.

During the Christmas season when I was buying chocolate gifts for friends and co-workers I suddenly knew that I wanted to get something for Sheila too. I was almost afraid that she would think I was silly — I mean, who buys gifts for their ticket taker? But then I realized that she made my day brighter than most of the people I ran into everyday. Luckily the gift made her happy, and I found myself smiling even more.

Then a couple of weeks ago, after our usual exchange of good mornings, she told me that she felt like a change and would be switching to a different shift. I felt a sharp stab of sadness as I told her goodbye, telling her that I hoped she’d come back soon. But it wasn’t until the next day and the next and the one after that, that I really knew how much I missed her. I never knew her last name, where she lived, her favorite foods, or what made her happy or sad. All I knew was her warm smile and her friendly good morning and that was enough. Enough to make me still miss her, all these weeks later and to know that I’ll keep on missing her during every train ride. Where do I put that in my survey?

Short URL: https://www.thecantoncitizen.com/?p=1156

Posted by Joan Florek Schottenfeld on Feb 4 2010. Filed under As You Like It, Opinion. Both comments and pings are currently closed.