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November 18, 2015

He chats, gravel-voiced, about the Knicks with the bus driver and takes a seat, eyes obscured behind cataract-style sunglasses, one hand on a walking stick, the other on a rubberband-secured notebook/planner.

"Hello, young man!" he says to every boy who boards with his mom.  He asks how old the young man is, and whatever he's told, he subtracts 1 and says, "I can't ride with you!  I only ride with kids [one year younger]!"  I laugh.

He says, "They need to be recognized!  Just like we all do."  I tell him I agree wholeheartedly.

I am grateful for his recognition.