Watching Trains and Feeling Small.

"I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean."
- Lee Ann Womack, "I Hope You Dance"

As I waited for the subway the other day, perfecting the art of staring blankly into space and wearing earphones like an introspective dunce, I couldn't help but let a smile slip across my face. A child--perhaps 7 years old, perhaps not even that--was waiting anxiously (and dangerously) near the edge of the platform, watching for the train to come. His anticipation building with each weary look toward approaching headlights, he could barely contain himself long enough to shout his excitement at his grandfather.

"It's coming, it's coming! It's almost here!"


I watched his hands grasp at his face, trying to figure out the best way to greet the arriving train. Should he run alongside it? Air five it? Attempt to hop atop it and ride it into Universal City like a bronco? Ultimately, he decided on a mixture of awkward flailing and whimsical jumping. "It's here! The train's here, grandpa!"

As this scene unfolded--the child seizuring at the sight of a dirty subway train, his grandfather bemusing interest--I wondered if I would ever get so excited over something so small again. As corny as it all is, the little things in life often pass us by. And as the great Ferris Bueller once said: "Life moves pretty fast. You don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it."

So to all of us workaholics, thumb twiddlers, and shoegazers: slow down and watch for the trains.


This Entry In Song:
Barcelona - "Lesser Things"
Jack Johnson - "While We Wait"

Be Back Soon,
Shaky Jake