The magic of casual carpool
Image: SF in Jello by Elizabeth Hickok

Today I road with a gray-haired woman and her white-haired mother. Next to me in the carpool line was another rider, a middle aged Chinese American man carrying a neat black bag from HP.

The gray-haired woman driving asked if we had seen the sunrise. It had saturated the sky with an unearthly pink, "Alpenglow," she told us. "We used to call it sky blue pink," added her mother in a thick Jewish accent.

I had not arisen for the sunrise, but the woman quickly told us they were off to San Francisco's new De Young Museum for the first Tuesday free day. I attempted to make up for my morning lethary. "Isn't that exciting!" I exclaim. "I remember the first museum was somewhat unremarkable. What do you think about the new building?"

"Actually," said the gray-haired woman, "I think it's terrible. We used to go to the old museum all the time when I was growing up." She added, "I had looked into joining the opposition group, until it became apparent that the project was going to happen, regardless." I had spoken too soon.

I then turned to the man next to me. Did he have a good New Year celebration with family? Yes, with all four of us. Did he have children? Yes, grown. He talked proudly of his daughter, who had just graduated form UC Berkeley in microbiology. She had lived at home during her studies, and was now free to explore her professional options.

I then heard about his son. What should he do about financing his son's college education? He and his wife had talked it over. "Love your wife first, then your kids. But they are all a part of your team," he emphasized. "It is essential to teach your kids of how to create their own team by this example."

The decision: they would pay for 30%, and his son would be responsible for the rest. But only for the cost of eduction. "What do most people do?" he asked me. I was more cautious this time and responded that the decision depended on the needs of the individual family and the student.

His internal conflict unfolded. "There is a difference between needs and wants," he told me. Of course he would not let his son go hungry on the streets. "But it is necessary to teach your children true independence," he explained. "Independence means being able to make your own choices, managing your own money and taking care of yourself."

His daughter was smart. She had lived at home during college and paid for her own tuition and school costs. Now she didn't owe a penny. He had told her 'Our home is your home.' So what about the son... To pay it all? Our time was up.

I looked out the car window at the strip of sidewalk between towering office buildings and stepped out of the car. I looked back at that window, an entrypoint into such different lives.