The bus filled up as we headed toward town. I enjoyed the view from my window seat. No rain today, yay, but not much sun either. Just a sky of hazy white clouds, the kind with the capacity to surprise: burn off to clear blue sky or sprinkle rain all day. Traffic slowed as we neared the Hawthorne Bridge. Trucks and buses haven't been able to cross the Morrison Bridge for a few years because the deck is crumbling. This summer, our city plans to fix the mess, so as of April 1, most car traffic is now diverted to the Hawthorne Bridge until next fall. As you can imagine, there was quite a traffic jam.
The bus crept across the bridge. I had a great view of the boats moored along the river's edge. I wondered what kind of people could afford the condos built along the river. I wondered how many people have been living on their boats since the housing crash in 2008. The river was calm but murky. March was the fourth wettest month on record, so the rivers are all running high.
Suddenly I heard several passengers' crying, "No, oh no, oh no, no, no!" People along the right side of the bus began energetically popping up in their seats. I was on the left side of the bus. I thought, is a bicyclist trapped? A pedestrian fallen in the road? What is happening?
The bus driver stopped the bus. "Open the door!" Some passengers pounded on the back door. They burst out the door and then I watched through the window as they grabbed a man who was attempting to climb over the railing of the bridge. One rescuer grabbed the man in a bear hug, and I caught a glimpse of a face—red cheeks, grizzled chin. I thought I saw shame and chagrin. The man twisted away from the men who were attempting to restrain him and marched unsteadily along the bridge sidewalk toward the pedestrian off ramp.
Meanwhile, multiple people were calling 911 on their cellphones to report a suicidal man on the Hawthorne Bridge.
Eventually the bus continued into downtown. I got off at the next stop and hiked up to the Courthouse at SW 6th and Main for the workshop, which was pretty much a dud for me personally. I will probably forget to blog about it, so in case you are curious, here are the highlights: no breakfast, no coffee, memorable bus ride, old courthouse, three attendees, no refreshments, obese presenter obsessed with food, mediocre PowerPoint, sales pitch for Constant Contact, ended ten minutes early, caught bus, home by noon.
The real story (besides the suicidal man) is how I could take a morning off from the job of orchestrating my mother's move to assisted living. Like I said, I do what is on my calendar. I signed up for this workshop over a month ago, long before we found the facility and started preparations to move.
Last night Mom's brain was mush. She'd stayed up to 3 am going through stuff to keep and sell in a yard sale. She was barely coherent when I brought her six more empty boxes. I was worried. Taking a morning off seemed a bit irresponsible, but hell. I can't manage my mother's brain. This morning I called her and she sounded much better. I guess she got some sleep and ate some food. I am hopeful that she'll survive this move and thrive in the new place. Stay tuned.
