The Old Woman In Purple

Matt and I went to hear the San Francisco Symphony at Stern Grove last Sunday. For Matt, it was a symbol of a "return to normalcy," a return to his pre-Leukemia, pre- tumor on the parathyroid, days. We parked our car in a handicapped zone and waited at the corner for the shuttle that brings "seniors" and handicapped people to the concert area.

We were about third in line at the front of the shuttle bus when I noticed an old woman standing by herself at its rear. She was wearing purple pants, a purple jacket, and a purple cap decorated with flowers. Her beaded earrings were garishly large and predominantly purple. She reminded me of the first line in Jenny Joseph's poem, "Warning:" "When I am an old woman I shall wear purple." Someone ahead of us in line told the driver that the the woman in purple could go ahead of him. "Oh no," said the driver, "we have a special place up front for Shirley." I liked that the driver knew who Shirley was. I liked that she went alone to the concert. I liked her purpleness. Some day, I thought, I shall be the grandly alone in purple Shirley.

Shirley's presence was a peek into only one of my potential futures. I am in no rush to hasten that future. If and when it comes, it will be at the cost of the life that I am now so blessed be living. I embraced it as such and silently cheered Shirley on in her purple aloneness.

Later, as Matt and I waited at the end of a very long line for the return shuttle trip, I saw Shirley sitting on one of the folding chairs that were toward the front of that line. As the line moved forward, I saw that Shirley remained in her seat. When, at last, Matt and I were in the group that would be next to board the bus, I heard the woman who was guiding people onto the bus ask Shirley if she was waiting for someone. I could only hear enough of her answer to learn that she wasn't and that the bus driver would be taking her somewhere. For all I know this "somewhere" could have been only up the hill to where the shuttle route ended or to a bus station or possibly even home. The questioner lightly kidded Shirley about wanting to hang out with the young people. Shirley made some good natured response. I wonder what she was really feeling.

I thought about Shirley on the return drive. Matt and I had plans for a dinner at a local restaurant. I wondered what Shirley was returning to. I imagined that the concert was the highlight of her day, possibly the highlight of her week. I imagined that waiting for the shuttle driver to give her a ride was an event in itself, that it was not something which stood between her and the march of events in a life full of them. Of course, I don't know any of this. Possibly Shirley has managed to arrange for herself a highly fulfilling life with as many events as she could possibly want.

It is only a peek into one of my potential futures. And this is true both for how it is for Shirley and how I imagine it to be.