The other day I was staring off into space and enjoying my trolley bus ride when a “babushka” (literally meaning grandma, but generally used to refer to an elderly woman) hobbling down the aisle caught my eye. She looked rather determined and, while I wasn’t certain what the cause of this was, I had a pretty good idea. Sure enough, she reached the teenage boy sitting in the seat across the aisle from me, grabbed the back of his coat, and lifted him out of his seat. She then proceeded to sit down and tell him he was “too young” to need a seat.
While I understand her desire for a seat, and am willing to acknowledge that she has probably dealt with more in her 60-70 years than I will ever deal with in my life, I am often irritated with the sort of entitlement many babushkas seem to have here. Most of these interactions have taken place either on the sidewalk or in the trolley bus.
Sidewalks here are pretty standard. The average width is probably between four and five feet, which in my experience is plenty of space for bi-directional traffic. Almost everyone automatically moves over to allow a passerby. However, it does not seem to be the case when encountering many babushkas. They often have the look of a bulldozer operator in my father’s excavation business, just daring someone to get in their way. It is probably safer to step into oncoming traffic than to challenge a babushka, as they don’t tend to be afraid of berating perfect strangers.
I don’t often sit on the trolley bus, especially when there are people with small children or elderly people in need of a seat. It is customary that younger people will give up their seats. But it irritates me when the elderly lady approaches me with that look in her eyes and stares me down until I acknowledge her majesty by getting out of my seat. Once or twice I may have continued to read of even stare and pretended to not realize one was staring.
My behavior in those situations is contradictory to my position as an MCC worker. I am here “in the name of Christ”. I should be willing to get up for anybody, but in some of my interactions I have found that my behavior is far from the ideal. I am here to serve these babushkas. Yet when I think “babushka” my mind automatically thinks “grandma”. And while I get a laugh by envisioning either of my grandmas throwing a teenager out of a seat on a bus or bulldozing people off the sidewalk, I try not to get frustrated by such petty things so I can act as I am supposed to.
Dave
