Thursday, July 4, 2002

On the Bus

Patriotic opinions vary on a local PSTA route.

PINELLAS POINT-Blood pushes to the outermost layer of his pale skin. The fingertips on his left hand are sickly red; veins line the surface of his hand. A white foam splint cups his hand in place, fastened by a worn blue strap. The black wheelchair is tattered. His feet lie still in brown-laced boots.

Climb aboard the No. 20 bus on July Fourth. PHOTO STORY >>

Psssshhhh go the bus’s hydraulics as Don Erickson, 50, wheels himself with one good arm onto a sidewalk. He glides past a veteran’s memorial with the words "honor" and "loyalty" chiseled at the top of the tall gray stone. He pays no attention to this permanent tribute. A tribute to all-American warriors, like Erickson.

Bus number 20 runs from the Skyway Plaza in Pinellas Point to the Tyrone Mall and back. It’s a steal for $1.25 each way and the conversation is priceless on the 50-minute route. This bus is a microcosm of America represented by the 15 people aboard. Class, color, gender and age all assume one identity: passenger. The people share pride in their country and are pleased with the bus service. But each person has a different opinion of what America means.

Meet Tom Nelson. A 31-year-old who does not have to work in a bike shop today. He is going to the mall to buy casual shoes. Nelson’s blond chin hair and rounded sunglasses offer a serious look on his rounded face, but his words are soft spoken. He expresses pride in his American citizenship, but he would like to see some changes in this country. "More equality for everyone…no women’s rights, no men’s rights, just people’s rights."

Nelson says that Americans "are at war everyday, just in different ways." He describes the struggle Americans have just trying to be nice to each other.

The bus’s plastic-lined floor is surprisingly clean. Swirls of colors on the fuzzy fabric chairs still have their sheen. The air conditioner laps the sweat of passengers’ faces as they step aboard. People sitting side by side have to speak a couple of decibels higher as they talk about what July Fourth means to them.

Meet John Williams, 53, who has been a transit operator for the Pinellas Suncoast Transit Authority for 18 years. He does not mind working today, a holiday for most people. "I like meeting people, I like helping people," he says while steering the white bus. Holidays and weekends are the slowest time for Williams, but he still meets "all kinds" of people.

Meet Lillian Sumery. She is heading to a family barbecue at her mother’s house. But that is not the only thing on her mind. Sumery is a social worker at a retirement community. She enjoys her independence in America. She has a lot to be thankful for, "I’m alive. My son is healthy. I have a job." Sumery smiles warmly in her round straw hat and blue plaid pants and shirt. Then her tone of voice hardens.

Sumery struggles at her job in a nursing home. She says that favoritism almost drove her to quit. Sumery says that her colleagues perform the same duties yet there is unequal pay.

She reaches with her right hand and jerks the yellow cord. A hushed ding sound comes from the front of the bus. The air brakes slow the lumbering white mass on wheels and before she exists, her welcoming smile returns. Troubles at work will not interfere with this afternoon’s celebration.

July Fourth "means a lot" to Don Erickson who says he served in Vietnam, Cambodia and Laos. He takes off his hat when discussing how America’s holiday changed since he returned from the war more than 25 years ago. "People forgot what other people have done for them."

Erickson describes how nurses at a local VA hospital say to him, "You’re nothing but a burden." He speaks of the federal government less flatteringly. "If all the veterans would die tomorrow, they would be so happy it would be pathetic."

Americans have stories to share on bus number 20. Stories about their love for country or shame for government. Personal details about daily life, buying shoes or traveling to a foreign land. Erickson has a powerful story to tell. Between bus stops he tells it passionately.

When asked whether he was going to celebrate July Fourth, Erickson says, "I have nothing to celebrate with…they [the government] left me broke." He tugs at his shirt and looks down at his legs.