Part one of "On the Bus" ran
in last week's A&E section.
PART TWO
“This seat, is it empty?” the
old man asks.
I look up, still a little dazed
from my goodbye with
Maribelle, and nod.
I look up into an ancient
face, a mask of wrinkles and
creases crowned by a gleam
ing, bald head. He must be
close to the century mark and
his eyes are all shiny and
dark like two marbles. He’s
carrying nothing but a small
knapsack and his ticket.
He sits down with intention,
carefully resting his bag on
his lap and smoothing out the
layers of robe that cover him
like an orange sea.
A monk.
He smiles quietly and intro
duces hintiself as Wan Yen,
placing palms together and
nodding his head toward me
by way of greeting.
I tell him my name and stick
my hand out, Maribelle-style.
And, like me just a few hours
before, he hesitates for a mo
ment and then grasps it gen
tly. Two gestures of hello, of
goodwill, of peace. One an
cient and unassuming, one
forward, direct and distinctly
American. It seems appropri
ate.
Then the bus driver is on
the intercom, announcing de
parture. Family and friends
stand around the door and
edges of the loading lanes,
waving or dabbing eyes, ob
scured by exhaust fumes and see an ink etching of a monk of America. Pollen specks we can become something
the glare of the 3:00 sun. We sitting on top of a flower. He pick up speed as we fly past, better than where we are, what
pull away, moving forward. He looks so peaceful and glad in swirling dizzily in the wind. we begin as.”
has turned back to his own his jewels and robes. I smile The land and the sky dapple
Something about this
business, but I watch Wan faintly.
with late sunlight. Children in makes me crumble inside. I
Yen out of the corner of my
We fall into a smooth, easy bare feet and overalls play on think of my past, so easily left
eye, curiosity piqued. He sits conversation. I learn that old, rusty railroad tracks near behind, of Maribelle’s past, of
quietly a moment with his Wan Yen is going to Sacra the side of the road.
the future and what San Fran
eyes closed, and then pulls a mento to join the Gold Moun
“We change with it, leave cisco holds for me. Everyone
worn book out of his knap tain Sagely Monastery. This home to find home,” he’s tell keeps talking about change,
sack, flips to a page, and be bus ride is the last leg of a ing me. “What we leave be stretching and pulling to
gins to read.
week-long journey from South hind becomes what we seek wards something happier and
The book is written in for Vietnam, his homeland. He out. Like the snake that sheds better. All the protesters and
eign charac
his skin to grow the riots and freedom
ters and side
■■
the same one marches.
ways lines
back. All a
I look out the window again,
and I forget
circle.
”
watching
the world speed
I look up into an ancient face, a mask
myself and
And I keep past. Thinking about my
of wrinkles and creases crowned by a
crane
my
trying to under dreams, about Wan Yen’s dark
neck forward,
stand, wanting eyes. I have the strangest
gleaming, bald head. He must be close
i to understand. sensation of moving both to
trying to de
to the century mark and his eyes are
cipher the
Thinking about wards and away from some
all shiny and dark like two marbles.
language.
Maribelle and thing at the same time.
Without look
where she is
We pull into the next sta
ing up, he
now, about my tion. “Sacramento,” the inter
murmurs,
parents and be com booms.
“Chinese lettering.”
has come to America to es ing a musician. About the
Wan Yen smooths out his
My face grows warm and I cape the war. We talk about war. Wondering how the hell robe and stands. We share a
quickly avert my eyes, watch that and the way people are I ended up on a bus in the smile and he nods towards me
ing the passing scenery. changing. Wan Yen has lost middle of nowhere talking once again, saying goodbye,
Trees and highway and pink his country to war and death, with a monk.
heading up the aisle and out
blue sky whir past. I feel the but he seems at peace with it
Wan Yen knows I don’t the door, never noticing the
weight of his eyes as they somehow. The whole thing quite understand, knows how stares and whispers.
watch me, half-turned and makes me sad and angry and different our lives are, how
I lean my head against the
rosy-cheeked.
small and I don’t understand different they have been up cool, smooth glass of the win
“This is the Lotus Sutra. A why. Something in me feels I’ll until now. He tells me, “The dow and watch the people in
most sacred Buddhist text.” I never understand. I tell him way of the world, it can only the loading lane, the same as
look back at him and see his so.
be understood here.” He the ones in the loading lane
face and friendly, smiling
We’re both silent for a points with an old knobby before that, and before that.
eyes, and forget my embar minute, until Wan Yen says, finger to his heart. “Zen is Then I feel the jerky move
rassment.
“The world, it always chang this knowledge, holding it ment of someone settling into
“Not just words, see. Pic ing, sometimes for better, there, not just here,” he con the seat next to me.
tures too, for each set of sometimes for worse. Just cludes, pointing to his head.
words. This here is Guan Yin. look around you.” He nods to “And, see, doesn’t matter
Boddhisattva of mercy, helps ward the window. We’re trav where we come from. The lo
others attain illumination.”
elling down a random, dusty tus flower grows only in mud. "On the Bus" will conclude
I look at the worn page and road somewhere in the heart We plant ourselves, knowing next week.
Mouth-watering morsels are coming
A sneak preview ofthe newface ofcafeteria food at Clackamas
MANDY GOOD
Sports Editor
Fine Host, the new campus res
taurant students will frequent on
campus next year, proves there
does not have to be a line be
tween cafeterias and restau
rants.
Print
cartoonist
Joel
Gunderson and I went on a
brave mission last week to the
Mt. Hood campus to sample the
food that will replace Chartwells’
for the next school year. I have
to say that when I go anywhere
to eat cafeteria food, I get a little
nervous. I remember my fair
share of bad experiences and I
didn’t want this to be another. I
had a picture in my head of a
dark cafeteria and a food line,
where Joel and I were just going
to cruise through the line and
sample a few things they had to
offer.
If I was biased before, I no
longer am. I have seen the other
side. Fine Host offered a con
siderable variety of food and an
atmosphere that was bright and
clean. A few things that jumped
out at me as different from the
typical “cafeteria” were: a salad
bar that was plentifully stocked
and looked fresh; a make-your-
own sandwich bar (32 cents an
ounce, with all the fixings); a
pasta bar; soup variety; a wall
of baked goods with another
wall of coffees right next to it;
and, in view as we walked in, a
menu of items that were on “spe
cial” for the week.
The specials vary from week
to week. When we visited, it was
“Comfort Food Day,” and the
menu included Baked Rosemary
Chicken served with mashed po
tatoes, gravy and a roll for the
bargain price of $3.75. I did not
sample that meal but I did see it,
and it looked like something my
mom would make. A vegetarian
friendly Cheese Enchiladas
served with beans and rice, again
for a bargain price ($2.95), was
also a featured special.
The cafeteria also had a sepa
rate section that sold Tortilla
Wraps and Chinese food. Joel
and I went straight to the wraps.
The wraps, which will be typical
at Clackamas, will be a hit. You
may choose from cheese-
jalopeno, garlic and herb, wheat,
sun dried tomato or pesto torti
llas. Then you may choose
chicken fajita, chicken cordon
bleu, turkey bacon club, chicken
Caesar, or vegetarian wraps. The
wraps cost $3.75 and they were
huge. I ate half of one and I was
full. They would be ideal to split
with another person, and they
are so good.
Joel and I left with a brownie
and a huge chocolate chip
cookie for the road. Our bellies
were full and our attitudes about
cafeteria food were changed. I
found the prices very reason
able for the quality of food we
enjoyed. Fine Host will spend
$50,000 remodeling the
Clackamas cafeteria and seems
to have a lot to offer. It was
obvious that there was a great
deal of pride in their food ser
vice. Variety, atmosphere and
outstanding food raised Fine
Host above the cafeteria cat
egory.
■
It’s a scienti
he's fuming
After just minutes of expoqffl
secondhand smoke, his immi
system is weakened, blood t
ens and his heart beats faste
Magnify that by a day, a wee
a year, and he may as well 6
smoking, himself.
You want your teenagers
to start working,
not smoking.
■ ■■■
Fnd out what you can do about it! Call the Coalition for
a Tobacco Free Clackamas County at (503) 557-5898