Monday, December 20, 2010

Shadowfax

There was no fanfare, no ticker tape parade, no special announcement or interruption in the regularly scheduled programming.  But I felt a need to celebrate when my car's odometer reached 50000 miles.  My car could have theoretically circled the Earth twice, with a little mileage left over - and I know its traveled emotional miles with me as well.  It seems like a car is one of the few places that I can truly feel alone anymore.  You can watch as the world slips by as you travel down pavement that ribbons off into the distance.  The freedom is exhilarating.  On trips I always love the feeling sitting in the back of my mind, like shadows I'm scared to acknowledge for fear of them dying in the light.   "Just skip your exit.  Keep on driving.  Explore.  See where you end up.  See where this road goes."  I imagine myself cutting all ties with everything up to that point, and just starting over.  A simple reset.  That car is much more than a vehicle.  It's been a bed, a dining room, a concert hall, an observatory;  my silver steed.  From getting me from where I am to where I want to be, here's to another 50000 miles.

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

The Au Standard

Had this been a decade ago, he probably would started out by asking "Paper or plastic?"  But I had brought the canvas bags, so there was no need.  He asked if I would bag my own groceries, and said I could choose what to group together.  Whatever I thought, it would help me to get back to my car, and my apartment sooner. He was an older guy, probably in his late 40s, but he seemed energetic working the check out line. He asked what I was studying.  "Oh, I'm a law school student."  He asked what they had us studying.  "Cases, and lots of cases."  He seemed surprised.  He told me he thought we would spend more time looking at statutes.  I explained we did that in one of the classes, but the majority of the time was spent on cases in most of my classes.

I learned that this man had represented himself in over forty lawsuits, worked for Penn State in some way regarding Physical Education, and was part of a Olympic history non-profit group (that he was currently representing in a suit against the International Olympic Committee).  He got me thinking; here's a guy with an amazing life story scanning my milk and eggs.  The first question one might think of is: "how many other people are there out there like him?"  A think perhaps a better question is "why should it take an exceptional story to recognize someone?"

Stop and think for a second about your own life.  Ever person knows their own story.  Where one has been, what one has done, the struggles that one has to endure, the accomplishments, the heartbreaks, the friendships, the failures, the victories.  Try to realize now that every other person has their own story.  EVERY. SINGLE. ONE.  Not just your friends and family, and the people you associate with, but every single person.  The people we encounter everyday have their own stories.  The postal worker who drops your mail off everyday, the barrista at the coffee shop that knows your order, the bus driver who drives the shuttle you used to stay out of the rain, the guy playing bass in the band at the bar, the girl stocking shelves, the cop sitting at the side of the road with a radar gun.  Furthermore, so do the stars on tv, the politicans, the actors on the silver screen.  Even the ones we will never encounter in our lifetime.  From the screenwriter living in a tiny flat in London, to the ranch hand working in Argentina, to the impoverished kid running through the streets in any number of crowded, overpopulated, polluted cities that circle the globe.  6.8 Billion people.

6.8 billion people.  And how many do we actually see as other people?  We automatically disregard unfamiliar faces, and fail to see them as people, and treat them as they deserve.  The postal worker is an idiot who doesn't know not to fold our mail, the barrista is an airhead who can't make a decent cup of coffee, the bus driver never did anything worthwhile with his life, the bass player smokes two packs a day and couldn't make it as a rock star, the girl stocking shelves is a teen mom, the cop sitting at the side of the road is an ass on a power trip.  We're quick to judge.  It's human nature, we say.  I saw a study that shows that a person can really only really conceptualize of about 150 other people maximum.  That falls far short of the amount of actual people.  It's human nature.

So what?  Is that supposed to be an excuse?  A justification?  A weak cop out is all it really is.  The world could be such a better place if we could realize the simple fact that we're all people.  Too often we forget this simple fact.  And it really is simple.  The "golden rule"; treat others as you would like to be treated.  How many problems could we eliminate if we followed this in even a fraction of our lives.  If we treated people like people.  Perhaps, it's a matter of perception, and we simply need to realize the truth and broaden the scope of our understanding.  We rarely take the time to truly understand anyone.  How many people do we actually know, and how many people actually know us.

Maybe that's the beginning.  If I can understand myself, I can understand others, and others can understand me.  The realization of understanding can perhaps lead to a view of the bigger picture.  Seeing the trees, and the forest.  It could make the world a brighter place.  Hold the door for someone.  Smile at the person passing you on the street.  Let someone merge into your lane in traffic.  Hit an elevator button for someone.  Treat people as people.  See people as people.  Understand that every single person we come across has their own story.  It could turn a simple "once upon a time" into a "happily ever after".