The Man Who Loved to Ride the Muskegon County Buses Has Departed This World at Mona's Lake.

Friday, March 27, 2020 at 10:33 AM

Reading Township, Illinois

James Alan Hiza. I believe I knew him. He is dead. He is dead. He waded into the shallows of Mona Lake at the boat launch near his Muskegon Heights home and inhaled the water when he reached the depth of his mouth. He saw his last moments clearly. He left his glasses on his face. He died with his glasses on. The first responders found his body, curiously, with his glasses still on his face.

Curiously, he was found with his glasses still on his face. Perhaps he didn't wade into the shallows on his own. Maybe foul play placed Jimmy in the water. The close relatives Lynn Moore the reporter for MLive didn't find and the police had yet to contact are now demanding that the full story be discovered. (Paragraph added after publishing. Sadly, blogging lacks the resources of a professional newsroom. Bloggers often work without editors).

For a year, I loaded my bike on a bus owned by the Muskegon Area Transit System near my home on Mona Lake. I took one bus up to the downtown terminal, a fortunate building that had great glass windows open to the pageant of the sun as it progressed from East to west. It benefited from solar heating and far outshone the earlier Hermann Ivory terminal.

I caught the Lakeshore Sherman the remainder of the way to work. One of the most beautiful commutes in the world, the bus traveled through Nims neighborhood, by Hartshorn Marina, through Lakeside against the World, past Torrensen's Sailing Compound, past Fishtown and past the Actor's Colony where Buster Keaton and his community celebrated summer. One couldn't reach Bluffton or the beach without a walk, but it made for a very short walk. We crossed the trolley tracks left by an earlier time.

No matter how early I got on the bus, I couldn't reach work by Eight Fifteen, but nobody called me out on it. And always, I noticed a man wearing glasses, drinking a Doctor Pepper, purchased at the transit station. I tried to talk to him, say hello, but he never returned my greeting. I'm not sure how he paid fare but as a senior citizen, he probably got an unlimited ride. I even saw him on the night bus. Always, he gazed out the bus windows, holding his pop on his knees, glasses on, as dazzled as Minerva the owl. 

He looked younger than his years, looking spry and fit. Catching the bus all day was his exercise. He probably picked it up at Getty and Airline, right before the tavern called the Patio.

He must have loved it when the buses went all the way to downtown Montague or to the very verge of Fremont. All that beautiful landscape, orchards in bloom, wheat to harvest, passed before his eyes that didn't seem to blink.

"Where Life Takes You" has been the slogan of MATS for a long time. Revel, the ad powerhouse grown up in Muskegon, wrapped the buses lovingly in the drawings of elementary students, our kids. The driver's came together every year to gather toys and games to give to children. I remember one cold night, a driver drove the bus right to my door on Seventh Street rather than see me walk that night in dark, epic cold. More than one driver knew the regular passengers better than a social worker.

Upheaval can be inevitable when companies like Uber and Lyft and Via and more enter the marketplace, seeking disruption and profit. The administration of Obama might understand rural public transportation better than the administration of Trump. Can a bus system thrive when long buses never fill all seats with paying passengers. The County Commissioners had to act and then acted. Every single one of that board had a history of compassion, Bob Scholnik a fine exemplar. The man in charge of MATS has a reputation for civic engagement. 

Covid-19 shortened the MATS schedule, delaying the departure of the first buses until mid-morning. It had to be done. The passengers began using the back door, giving the driver a margin of safety. This made the hello by the toll box obsolete. The changes had to be profound for the veteran riders although inadvertent.

Maybe I have taken the MLive reporter's details and created a fable, a story that can't be proven true. We may never know what went through his mind as the veteran walked past the shuttered VFW hall, closed for years. We can only speculate why he just didn't start hanging out at Denny's nearby. Let's learn what we can from this man, the man who loved the county buses. Let's explore this cipher in the lake.