Riding Metro North. With SkinnyPop.

~ Live & Learn

train-car-jpg

Michael posted it. I chew on it.

“The older I grow, the more I listen to people who don’t talk much.”  Germain G. Glidden.

Like a needle stuck in a rut, it churns.

The older I grow…The older I grow…The older I grow.

It’s Monday, an unexpected break, with two cancellations. I mosey cross-town to catch an early afternoon train.

The hallways in Grand Central, teeming in rush hour, stand empty, resting.  The board flashes Track 106, departing in 30 minutes.  30 minutes. 30 minutes. 30 minutes.

The stomach growls. I circle the snack bar. Once. And then twice. And then back again. Snickers Bars. Doritos. Mixed Nuts. M&Ms. Papers. Magazines. Sodas chilling. An oversize bag of Jalapeno SkinnyPop. Bingo. I grab the bag and a Kit-Kat Bar.  The tattooed counter man lifts his head from the NY Post, “Bag for this?”

I step into the last car, it’s dimly lit.

The older I grow…the more I prefer to sit by myself in an empty train car.

The older I grow, the quiet can’t get quiet enough.

I settle, tear open the bag and dive in. Quiet Car, but for the hand-to-bag-to-mouth-and-back motions crinkling the bag.

“SkinnyPop. No artificial ingredients. Non GMO. Gluten Free. Diary free. Peanut free. Tree nut free. Preservative free. No artificial flavors. Zero trans fat. A good source of fiber. And DELICIOUS. We believe in snacking without compromise. …That’s the skinny.”

The older I grow, the more I savor junk food.

A fat, black fly emerges overhead, two empty seats up. Half-blind, parched, stuck in this train car all winter, it circles lethargically, starving, dazed from the pull of buttered popcorn.

It agonizes – should I approach this beacon, is it a warning, a signal or a celebration?

It decides to approach.

It drops down to floor level, and sits for a moment resting, intoxicated by SkinnyPop.

I watch him, he’s twitching, unsure, fearful. A Giant sits between him and his survival on the floor, crumbs of SkinnyPop.  20 years ago, you would have crushed him, twisting the heel of your shoe on his existence with all of your might.

I reach into the bag, he freezes.

I place two kernels on the floor, kick them over with the heel, grab my bag and move to the other side of the train car.

The older I grow, the more it matters.

The more it all seems to matter.

Notes:

41 thoughts on “Riding Metro North. With SkinnyPop.”

  5. The older I grow, the more keenly aware of the instances in which I realize, ‘There but for the grace of God…’ I’ve come to appreciate the potency of small gestures, little kindnesses, simple goodness, and honest effort more than I ever did before. My husband told me this morning that he loves waking up next to me. A simple comment that is now lodged in my heart. Beautiful post, pal….

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  9. I had to chuckle about how you are eating junk food on the train. Didn’t you write a piece about a young woman who ate chips or something like that on the train, and it was so disgusting? But when you’re not in a crowded compartment, it’s different. I love how you left the fly behind. I hope it cleaned up the mess. Good post.

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    1. Laughing. I was waiting for who would catch the hypocrite. Why am I so not surprised that it’s you – so observant, an eye that missing nothing. Thankfully I have you following along. And I’m grateful.

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      1. We can laugh about this together. I feel the same way about snacking when I’m in my own space, but am grossed out by the girl with the chips who eats them under my nose (and doesn’t share them, haha).

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  13. “The more it all seems to matter”….It does matter. We’re just becoming wise enough to understand that. Love this post, Dave, and your kind heart.

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  14. I have no idea what SkinnyPop is, but the older I grow the less I trust lengthy disclaimers on bags of food about what is and isn’t in them. There is something they arent telling me, I’m sure of it.
    Call me cynical, but SkinnyPop? My ass.

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  17. I love that I see more in my old age! I have no idea what SkinnyPop is, but the older I grow the less I trust lengthy disclaimers on bags of food about what is and isn’t in them.

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