"Honey, let's pull over and take a picture together..."

Got any other captions, folks?

Ever wonder how things like liquid oxygen got from here to there….in the 60′s?  In style, it seems.

I recently found these photos in an old Graphis Magazine article called “Vehicle Graphics”.  Don’t these make you want to jump back in time to when company logos and marketing meant clean design and strong clean typography? Instead of always getting slapped in the face with bad design, sex, or inadequacy. Hmmm…

They are all so lovely it’s hard to pick a favorite – but if you had to drive one, which one would you choose?

My personal favorite.

Back in the fall of 2001,  I was on a break from college and working full time in the call center of a local art supply company.  It was the first time that I had ever needed to commute by metro to and from work, and the route was long and slow and took me into a part of the city that most people intentionally avoid.  So, needless to say, it was interesting. I began to noticed the strange environment that I was sharing everyday with total strangers – wondering who these people were, making up stories about their lives (probably more acurately and unfortunately -  judging), and listening in on whatever my ears could manage to pick up  It is and was mostly amusing and entertaining, to be sure, but one particular evening I came face to face with the reality that “You really have no clue at all, do you, Leah? ” This was the situation I overheard (pulled from the notes I wrote after I got home that day):

I called him Goliath.  He was the largest man I’d ever seen riding this bus.  His giant frame carried stained and worn sweats, rough hands, and an unshaven face.  He must be in construction, I think.  As I’m sitting there, I do what I always do while riding, I imagine each person and the life they must lead.  For Goliath I imagine him as a construction worker, who goes home each night and drinks his gallon of beer watching the football team he thinks he should have been on.  If it had not been for that injury or unfortunate circumstance – he wouldn’t be drinking beer right now in his modest home with a woman he barely recognizes, but rather, would be out with “the boys” celebrating his glory.  I have just stereotyped this man in the worst way.

As I’m thinking this, a stringy well-worn man gets on with his three young girls.  I notice that the two men seem to know each other because the man [M] who just got on strikes up a conversation with Goliath [G]:

[M] “Honey, say Hi to Steve – you know him, he’s Jasmine and Samantha’s daddy.” (the young girl smiles at Goliath- er Steve.)
[G] “Where are you and the girls headed?”
[M] “We’re takin’ a trip to the grocery store.”
[G] “Yeah, I was downtown, filling out some paperwork – I got approved for a home loan, all I have to do is get my paperwork filled out cause I’m a veteran.”
[M] “Nam?”
[G] “Yeah, I just gotta get that paper work done.”
[M] “You guys still living in the van?”  (Goliath nods.) “Hey, man, are you guys okay, cause pretty soon its going to get really cold.”
[G] “Yeah, we’re okay, but I got that home loan  – 110,000 home loan, so pretty soon we should get a place.”
[M] “That’s great man!”
[G] “It’s just that I have to take a day off work to do the paper work…lose a day’s pay…”
[M] “Hey, man, but that’s worth it though, right?”
[G] “Yeah, but that’s losing a 100 dollars a day – when your single income you can’t afford that.  Plus my boss isn’t going to let me take off work.”
[M] “Hey, man, you gotta do it, sure you’ll be losing a hundred dollars but in the long run it’ll be so much more worth it.”
[G] “Yeah I know…”
[M] “Well, how’s the van working out?”
[G] “It’s okay, the kids sleep up in the bunk and me and the wife have the whole bottom to ourselves – its okay, it’s too bad though, I almost got a deal on something bigger.”
[M] “Another van?”
[G] “No, a trailer…”
Just as he says this we arrive at the a stop – both get off and part ways, waving “until next time…”.

No matter how many times I read this, I always end up cringing and completely horrified at my initial judgement toward this man. I also feel profoundly moved and humbled by the circumstances of those who work so hard to just get a some kind of break – a step out the door of a difficult situation.  I sit next to REAL people on these bus rides – people with families, lovers, friends, jobs, passions, temptations,  pet peeves, insecurities, and deep longing.  I saw then and there that the hour or so bus ride to and from work was a sacred space.  It must be. It’s a place and time where I am confronted with the choice between whether I am going to try and make up my own story – which always ends up being flawed and incomplete and mediocre at best. OR whether I am going to allow myself to be caught up in the story that’s already happening. I suppose all of life has the potential to hold in it the sacred.  Cause I don’t know about you, but I’m faced with this decision not just on my commute….but ….well….all the time.

A couple of gems overheard on my commute yesturday. And while I probably could have made this up – the fact that I didn’t have to makes it even better…

[SCENE] Two male undergrads. Non-descript dress. Standing by the back door of the bus – talking both confident and loud.

“…Dude! I totally see you shackin’ up with a lady who’s really into Final Fantasy and Anime!…”
(friend agrees)

“You know, if I were to create my dream majors, right now, they’d be: Explosives….Riflery……and….Starfleet Command Captain!”

(Photo above from my Daily Schott’s Miscellany 2009 calendar)