Sometimes I take the bus up or down First or Second Avenue to get to and from east midtown. Despite traffic it can still be a more pleasant experience than being shoved and crushed by the workforce masses glued to their phones in the bowels of the city that is the subway. The bus is rarely crowded. What you will see on the bus are old people. Especially this bus route. First Avenue in the low 30s is often referred to as Bedpan Alley because of the number of major hospitals along that stretch. Riders requiring special assistance can definitely slow the bus down, taking extra time to board passengers (beep, beep, beep – that’s the sound of the bus stairs turning into a lift to accommodate wheelchairs and walkers) so this is not a good means of transportation for the impatient. But for me it’s worth allowing a bit more commuting time to be able to get a seat and look out the window.

I’ve been on a heightened (and probably unhealthy) obsession with age since losing my career job two years ago. I was naively unprepared for the age bias and discrimination I’ve since experienced while trying to find comparable employment. How am I supposed to develop a positive outlook when I see these old bodies in visible decay with paper thin skin and dark bruises, shaking and wobbling as they move like musty sloths? This is probably what recruiters envision when they see my LinkedIn profile.

One day a woman got on the bus and her walker was decorated with bright plastic flowers – like what I put on the white wicker basket on my bicycle when I was about 8. I’m guessing she was in her mid-eighties and she was stylishly dressed. She sat in front of me. Out of her tote bag she pulled out what appeared to be a manuscript and proceeded to go through it before getting off in front of one of the hospitals. The manuscript was in large type which made it easy for me to read without leaning in like a nosy weirdo. From what I could see the piece was about music and Pete Seeger was mentioned. So was Carl Reiner and PBS. Music and cultural icons of her youth. The colorful flowers on her walker made me smile as did her aura of not letting age or disability get in her way. She was cheery as she thanked the bus driver when he helped her off. I hoped her medical appointment was good, nothing serious.

Back to looking out the window I get pulled back down a well of sadness. So much new construction and rapid transformation of the landscape. It only amplifies the loss of time. After 40 years of living in this city there are ghosts everywhere.