Civility lives

In addition to the random characters that abound on public transportation, every so often riding mass transit gives you a front row seat to some extraordinary acts of human kindness and civility. In a world where people are capable of walking past an elderly man lying in the street after being hit by a car, or ignoring a mentally-ill woman who's collapsed on the hospital waiting room floor, it's nice to know that people still notice each other.

I was on the Metro the other day, a few stops from mine. Living in this area there is often a smattering of military personnel in uniform riding the rails. On this particular day there was a young black woman in Army fatigues standing in the aisle next to my seat, peacefully zoning out a bit with her iPod. All of a sudden, out of a group of people further down in the car, comes this young white guy. He was maybe in his early 20s, maybe a little younger. Looked a little rough around the edges -- white t-shirt, raggedy black shorts, a biker's glove on his right hand. He walked up to the woman in uniform standing in the aisle and wordlessly stuck out his hand.

She looked at him a moment, took the earbuds out of her ears, and looked at him.
"Thank you," he said. She took his hand, and then he turned around and walked away.

I wasn't close enough to hear if she gave any response. But she put her earbuds back in and she and I both exited at the same stop.

It was a touching scene, especially because it took place in such an intimate space. This wasn't a crowded shopping mall or a bustling airport terminal. This was a subway car, a half-empty car at that, during the morning rush when there isn't usually much noise other than the scream of the air and screech of steel as the trains move through the tunnels. People are either reading their newspapers, catching a few more winks or zoning out on their iPods. In a word, this guy had a captive audience.

And yet there was something about this young soldier that prompted him to thank her for her service to her country. Something that transcended race, gender, feelings for or against the U.S. involvement in Iraq, and everything else that prevents people from reaching out to others in a show of human compassion and solidarity.

I think that something was this young man's sense of patriotism, yes, but also human decency. It is, afterall, polite and decent to thank someone when they've made a sacrifice for you, isn't it?

So just in case you were wondering, it does still exist.