Today’s post title is, indeed, a reference to a Seinfeld episode, and this is a story from my journey through the streets of Dublin.
One day was particularly rainy as my friend and I explored various James Joyce spots then the Temple Bar region. When it was time to head back to the hotel, we made our way to the Luas light rail system for quicker transportation back to Connelly Station in the rain, which at that time was coming down pretty good.
We walked up to the ticket vending machine at the Jervis stop, purchased our tickets, then looked for a dry place to stand.
A man wearing a black garbage bag over his clothes as a makeshift raincoat stood along the wall under the closest overhang. He was drinking a beer in a small, round, green bottle.
The only spot to stand where we might be shielded from the rain was next to him.
I’m ashamed to admit that the idea of standing next to him made me nervous, a result of my predisposed prejudices that I wasn’t even aware of.
Nevertheless, we stood in the available spot, and he immediately started talking with us.
He said he got the garbage bag from the homeless shelter.
I wasn’t surprised to hear that. What he said next, though, completely caught me by surprise.
He shared that he wasn’t at the shelter because he was homeless or needed assistance. Rather, he was a volunteer. I got the distinct impression he was homeless as some point in his life and was paying back the help he had received.
He was on his way home to his wife, who had some sort of medical issue if I recall correctly. He wanted to squeeze in a quick beer for enjoyment before having to face reality again.
He asked us where we were from, and we said New Jersey. He shared that he lived in Florida for a short time, but Ireland was home.
As the Luas train approached, he said, “You know, we all have the same story, no matter where we are from.”
We said goodbye and got onto the train.
I never thought to ask his name, but he looked like his name should be Jimmy, so that’s what I call him.
All of my assumptions I had about Jimmy when I first saw him were shot to hell and completely wrong.
I haven’t forgotten Jimmy or his simple yet profound message.
Underneath it all, we all do, indeed, have the same story: the elements of heartache, triumph, wishing, wanting, doing, suffering, pain, losing, judgment, fear, acceptance, wonder, success, sadness, anger, love, loss, fulfillment, satisfaction, emptiness, strength, peace, weakness, joy, stereotypes, strife, bliss, disappointment, and more…all rolled up into one core of a story with our own circumstances and attributes creating the mask we each wear.
It’s that core under the mask that matters, a story so uniquely similar to yours.
And to mine.
And to Jimmy’s.