Scenes from this Side of the Bridge: Breakfast on Main Street

On Tuesday I boarded the bus a little after seven fifteen in the morning. I sat down sleepily in my usual seat next to the window on the right side of the bus. The only other passengers were a man in a suit and an older couple who sat near the front of the bus talking quietly. The man in the suit was nodding off, his head moving back and forth as though in rhythm to a song that only he could hear. I stared out the window and wished for a cup of coffee.

The bus stopped at Constitution Park to pick up a few passengers and I watched the early birds exercising on the path that circles the park. Individuals and small groups of people, mainly older Asians and Caucasians, walked or jogged. Some of Asians walked backwards and swung their arms. I noticed a couple of gray haired men, one Asian and one Caucasian, chatting as they stood on the path near the bus stop. The Caucasian man laughed at something the other man said to him and patted him on the back. As the bus rumbled down Linwood Avenue and turned onto Main Street, I stared out the window and again thought about coffee. If I had gotten up a little earlier, I could have had a cup before leaving for work, I thought. And if I had the luxury of working from home that day, I fantasized, I would have gone to the for breakfast just as I had a few months ago.

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In May, sometime during the middle of a work week, I was lucky enough to be able to work from home. Usually, I’m up by six and out the door by six forty five in the morning. After all, we corporate bank employees have a reputation to keep up. We are supposed to work long hours and take home outrageous paychecks. Only half of that stereotype is true for the majority of us (I drive an old Honda Accord. So I’ll let you guess which half is true.).

On this day, however, I had the luxury of being able to take it easy and finish a couple hours worth of work from home. I decided to take advantage of my freedom and grab a light breakfast somewhere in town while I finished up a report for my boss. I parked on Main Street, grabbed my backpack, and strolled over to Parisienne Bakery. I am a fan of their breads and pastries (especially the Beard Papa cream puffs - http://www.muginohointl.com/main.php?nav=our_products) and their coffee is usually decent as well.

I took my time inspecting the baked goods and chose two; a chocolate croissant, and something with strawberries and powdered sugar on it. I paid for them and ordered a cup of coffee. With my breakfast in hand, I sat down at an empty table not far from a group of Asian women. My guess was that they were mothers who had just dropped their children off at school. I took a sip of my coffee and unzipped my backpack to pull out my laptop. As I waited for Windows to load, I took a bite of my croissant. It was light and flaky with just enough chocolate in the middle. Mornings should always be like this, I thought, as I took another sip of coffee.

It was then that I noticed the women at the tables near me were not speaking Korean. I was mildly surprised since I tend to hear Korean spoken quite often in this part of Bergen County. Although I don’t speak the language, the sounds are familiar to me. Instead, however, I heard Japanese being spoken by the group. I enjoy hearing other languages even though I do not understand what is being said. So, while I do not usually eavesdrop on other peoples’ conversations, I was drawn to the sound of their voices.

My Chinese-Indonesian family was one of the few minority families in the small, northern California town where I was born and raised. When I moved to this part of the country, I was fascinated by the cultural diversity I saw. The scene at the bakery reminded me of this fascination once more. I was struck by the fact that I was hearing Japanese while sitting in a Korean bakery located in the middle of a traditionally Italian and Greek, American town. This, I felt, was something special. This was a scene, I thought, that probably does not happen in too many places around the world.

In the news we hear and see today, it seems that very few things are right with the world and our country. Jobs and the economy here in the US and abroad are major concerns. Wars seem to be happening on every continent of the world. Natural disasters have seemingly decided to go full steam ahead. It seems that many of us are burnt out from working and worrying so much.

It is easy to forget that some things about our country are still working. It is easy to forget that life goes on and that people still meet their friends for a walk in the morning at the park. It is easy to forget that people from different backgrounds still live peacefully together in the same neighborhood and have breakfast at bakeries and coffee shops.

As I finished my work and drove home, I thought again about the ordinary yet special scene I had just witnessed. Though the question has been asked before, are we taking the time to see the value in the everyday sights and experiences around us?