Letter from Boston

Interesting Encounter

By MASAKO YAMADA

I was riding the Red Line T home from my salsa lesson and I noticed an elderly woman sitting in front of me with a lot of shopping bags. As I got off the Red Line to switch to the Green Line, she asked me whether I'd carry her bags up the stairs for her. I said, "Sure," and carried her bags. It turned out that she was heading in the same direction, so I took her bags to the Green Line T and boarded the train with her.

Once we sat down, I realized that I had gotten a lot more than I had expected. This woman was not just an old lady who needed physical help. She was a talkative, vibrant woman who fascinated me with her witty anecdotes and observations. She reminded me of a friend from college who would change the topic of conversation every few minutes. It seems to be those with agile minds, not scatterbrains, that can manage this well.

I was initially bowled over by her chattiness, but she asked me many questions as well, and listened attentively as I answered. She asked me whether I was from Boston. I told her that I'm originally from New Jersey, but that I'd lived in the area for about 6 years. She happily said, "I knew you weren't from around here! You don't look like you're from Boston." She's a lifelong native and knows Boston through and through.

When I told her that I had studied at Wellesley as an undergraduate, she asked me what Wellesley students thought of Hillary Clinton. I answered, "I think they like her."

She followed, "I can't grasp her. I saw her on the `Rosie O'Donnell Show' the other day, and she had all the physical gestures down like she was Rosie's next door neighbor, but you could tell that it wasn't real."

When I countered, "Well, I don't think Wellesley students aspire to be the typical girl next door ...," she nodded her head vigorously and said, "Yes, I understand. But I just don't get her. She seems very shrewd."

Her shopping bags had the name of a popular local health foods store on them, so I asked her whether she had just gone to that store. She said that she had gone to another health foods store but that she had brought her own plastic bags.

I wondered why she had taken an hour-long trip to Cambridge when she lives across the street from a very nice health foods store, but she explained that things are cheaper in Cambridge, and she makes a point of going there twice a week to do her grocery shopping.

When she said that she saves about $2 ( ¥240) per trip, I felt a bit sad. I think there must be better things to do than spend two hours to save $2. However, I also thought it was great that she has the desire to shop with discrimination. She told me that she had found her scarf — with the YSL insignia — on sale at Filene's Basement. She had just gotten compliments on her scarf that day, and she was obviously proud to show it off.

I knew that she lived in an area with many recent Russian-Jewish immigrants, and I asked her about this. She replied that the great majority of people in her apartment — a government-subsidized apartment that is managed by a Jewish charity group called B'nai B'rith — are of that ethnic group.

She said with a mixture of frustration, sympathy and resignation that it is almost impossible to communicate with them because of the language barrier, and because of their tendency to engage in their own group activities. However, it was clear that she was trying very hard to break the ice.

The train was nearing my stop, but I offered to stay on to help take her bags up to her apartment. I must admit that I was partly interested in seeing the place, which she had described in such detail.

When we got there, I was amazed. It was certainly nicer than any graduate student flat that I'd ever seen. I wanted to know more about how she ended up there: Did her husband die? Did she have a job? Did it depress her to live in public housing? But I knew that that would cross an uncrossable line. Instead, we chatted about benign nothings, such as the wonderful apartment facilities, and the food that she had just bought at the market.

As I was about to leave, she asked me what my name was, and I asked her. Judy asked me what it felt like to go to Japan as an American. I told her that it felt nice. She said with starry eyes, "Oh, if I could ever go to Japan!" and told me that she'd never been abroad.

Shukan ST: March 26, 1999

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