Downtown F Train: The Lumberjack Knitter

Sometimes, I don't talk, I just observe. My eye gravitates towards things that are unexpected or in contrast to the situation and surroundings.

The F train wasn't full so I was able to get a seat for the two stops I needed to go. Everyone around me was in their standard early fall work garb. All a forgettable blur until I locked onto the lumberjack sitting across from me. Well, he probably wasn't one but he looked exactly like the wild guys I have met in small rural towns during my trips out West. Burly guy, full-beard, jeans, flannel jacket, sitting quietly on the orange seat and lit from above by fluorescent lights. After the initial shock, I started seeing other interesting details. The NY Mets jersey underneath his jacket, the latest trend in atheltic sneakers and...the knitting sack. He was knitting away at what appeared to be a child's sock. Judging by the speed and accuracy of the four needles being worked at the same time, he definitely knew what he was doing.

We all think we know someone just by looking at them. I hate that I do it myself. We can't get away from it. I find myself drawn to activities that no one would expect me to do just so people can't read me in one go. My creed is to foster contrast in myself. That way, I get to appreciate life from multiple points of view.