Day 19 : Hometown Glory-Adele

This morning on my way back from class something unexpected happened. I was walking with my head down, about to step off the sidewalk onto the empty street when I heard a very faint old voice calling out to me. "Excuse me," it said. I turned my head mid step to find that a truly ancient man commandeering an electric wheel chair was bee-lining his way towards me. There was a moment, before he spoke again, where everything was possibilities--two perfect strangers, one standing the other sitting, taking each other in, sizing each other up. I must have assumed he needed directions and he must have guessed that was what I assumed. It is in these moments that I realize just how uncomfortable we are with the unknown. We distrust strangers by principle. Conversations exchanged with the unfamiliar are just pleasantries, small talk and common courtesy. 'Thank you's', 'Have a nice day's', and 'Can I help you with something's?' are all just paper or plastic. We live from point A to point B in our own circles. We sit on subways and walk on streets surrounded by people and always we are careful to avoid any kind of contact. I talked to this man for an hour and a half before I asked him what his name was. James Thomas Hillestad. We sat in the shade of the commons buiding, I on a bench and he on his chair. He told me about his life and I listened. He told me that the world we live in today was different than the one he had grew up in. He said that community was gone. I told him I was ok with that. He told me I didn't know what community was. I told him that I liked the idea of anonymity, of being able to walk through a sea of people and know nothing about them and at the same time revel in the knowledge that they know nothing about me. Great masses of blank slates. He smiled to me and said "On any given day you might meet someone and share with them a conversation knowing that when you part you will likely never lay eyes on them again." Mr. Hillestad knows things. He's lived. I liked watching him wheel away back to wherever he came from. Back to "loving being senile" and to what I hope is his 90 year old wife with a sandwhich on a plate somewhere close to campus.
Song of the Day: Hometown Glory by Adele

"I don't need a cloak to become invisible." APWBD