The Value of a Name
Social security updated: check.
Driver's license changed: check.
Employee data information updated: check.
The only big item left to deal with is my passport. I figured notifying my employer, social security, and the DMV were most important. And they're done.
Then it's all the little things, like the utility providers. I'm less concerned about them and will take my time getting those switched over to my new old name.
My new old name. Every time I tell myself I am now JKP, I feel like I'm slipping into that favorite comfy sweater with the sleeves fraying at the wrists. Signing my name makes me feel like the me before I married. It feels so right. I am JKP. I know I can never be anything else.
When I set off this morning to take care of all the updating/changing, I met the kindest bus driver. His name is Rod. We chatted about the holidays for a bit, and I wished him a safe day. He sort of stopped when I said that and nodded, saying he certainly needed all the well wishes he could get. I've come to believe the bus drivers are truly amazing people. They have to deal with so much all at once: reckless motorists, pedestrians not paying attention at crosswalks, riders who don't have enough change, road closures, trains that delay the bus (which in turn make the riders grumble about being late to wherever they have to be), crappy weather, detours, and even a rider with a gun (a few weeks ago -- thankfully no one was hurt). Just before he closed the doors to leave on his route, Rod called, "Have a blessed day, Sister J." (Rod and I actually met up again today when I transferred buses on my way home. He offered me a wonderful smile and a fist bump as hello.)
On my ride home from the social security administration office, I learned more about a woman I've seen on the bus several times before. I wondered if she's homeless as I've seen her on different buses. Several weeks ago it was the Brown out to the big box store on the west side of town. Last week it was the Yellow out to work, and since she didn't get off anywhere along either of these two routes, I figured she was using the bus to have a place out of the weather. Today she got on the Purple with me, then the Green. I've never seen her get off anywhere along a route. She just switches buses. It seems she carries everything she has with her, too, in three large black carry-on type bags and one smaller cheetah print bag. As she and I waited at the bus stop, I noticed she smokes cigarillos. She and three others on the bus know each other and carried on a conversation during our ride to downtown. One of the other women remarked about how much the woman carries with her and how difficult it must be. Cigarillo Smoking Woman said quite matter-of-factly, "You do what you gotta do."
I've never spoken to Cigarillo Smoking Woman, but I really want to. I want to know her name so I can address her properly whenever our paths cross.
When I set off this morning to take care of all the updating/changing, I met the kindest bus driver. His name is Rod. We chatted about the holidays for a bit, and I wished him a safe day. He sort of stopped when I said that and nodded, saying he certainly needed all the well wishes he could get. I've come to believe the bus drivers are truly amazing people. They have to deal with so much all at once: reckless motorists, pedestrians not paying attention at crosswalks, riders who don't have enough change, road closures, trains that delay the bus (which in turn make the riders grumble about being late to wherever they have to be), crappy weather, detours, and even a rider with a gun (a few weeks ago -- thankfully no one was hurt). Just before he closed the doors to leave on his route, Rod called, "Have a blessed day, Sister J." (Rod and I actually met up again today when I transferred buses on my way home. He offered me a wonderful smile and a fist bump as hello.)
On my ride home from the social security administration office, I learned more about a woman I've seen on the bus several times before. I wondered if she's homeless as I've seen her on different buses. Several weeks ago it was the Brown out to the big box store on the west side of town. Last week it was the Yellow out to work, and since she didn't get off anywhere along either of these two routes, I figured she was using the bus to have a place out of the weather. Today she got on the Purple with me, then the Green. I've never seen her get off anywhere along a route. She just switches buses. It seems she carries everything she has with her, too, in three large black carry-on type bags and one smaller cheetah print bag. As she and I waited at the bus stop, I noticed she smokes cigarillos. She and three others on the bus know each other and carried on a conversation during our ride to downtown. One of the other women remarked about how much the woman carries with her and how difficult it must be. Cigarillo Smoking Woman said quite matter-of-factly, "You do what you gotta do."
I've never spoken to Cigarillo Smoking Woman, but I really want to. I want to know her name so I can address her properly whenever our paths cross.
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