The past few times I've been to the library, there's been an older black man sitting at the same table right between the H and K rows. He wears a gray felt fedora-type hat and a khaki coat. Every time I see him, he has a newspaper - but not the hometown newspaper. I can just tell from the layout of the front page. He has a notepad in front of him and he seems to be copying from the newspaper into the notepad. Slowly, painstakingly copying. There is something about him that makes me want to ask what he's doing, ask if I can help him. But I never do, and then he sticks with me as I walk home, cutting through the sculpture garden and up to the sidewalk on Third.
Today at Barnes & Noble, I stood in the romance section reading the back of a thick paperback. A group of people walked past me, but I didn't even look up. As they came back past, the guy pointed to the cover of one of the books featuring a rugged barechested cowboys. In an unmistakably gay voice he said, "Do you think there are pictures in this? If so, let's buy it right now." I laughed at him, and as they passed, he smiled at me. It reminded me of that old geometry principle that two lines only ever intersect in one point. This was a point of intersection. I didn't even get a good look at his face. But it happened - that moment where we were part of the same point of existence and then it was over.
Thursday, September 28, 2006
Habits of Strangers
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You know what's weird, is that I think about this same thing a lot, too. In my mind, it's a big fat awkward looking teenage boy I saw in line at the Log Flume ride at Geauga Lake when I was there one time with my dad when I was seven. He was wearing a Bernie Kosar jersey, and when he saw me looking at it, he said, "Hi. Go Browns." Which is a weird thing to say to a little girl. I never forgot that guy...
Nice posting... :)
What is it with Northern Lake names? In NY, we had Keuka Lake, which I'm pretty sure rhymes with Geauga Lake. But does that make it right?
You have such a way with words. You always have, way back to Smoke Signals in 8th grade...
Megan, you're very kind. Glad to have written something that you enjoyed.
And Smoke Signals! I saw Mrs. Williams in the grocery store not too long ago and she looked exactly the same! She was so happy to hear that I'd gone on to get my MFA. And I actually thanked her on my acknowledgements page in my thesis - I thanked every teacher from first grade on who encouraged me to write.
You're blogging has definitely become a creative outlet for you and I appreciate being invited to share.
If I were in your shoes and had pursued writing to such an extent, I'd have to pull a "no thanks" like that guy at the Emmy's and definitely NOT Thank FMB. She told me I shouldn't go into AP English my Senior year. I so wanted to take her my 292/300 thesis and rub it in her face. I love Mr. Bailey! He got it and didn't make me conform like she wanted me to. Stupid 5 pragraph format. I'm much too wordy, indecisive and run-on for that style! Bitter much?
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