Fall/autumn is here and I couldn’t help but take a musical moment to herald the arrival of my favorite season. A written piece is forthcoming but in the meantime, a musical blast from the 80s – Exposés “Seasons Change”. Because I love the awesomeness of the 80s, this is the extended version. Do extended versions even exist anymore?
Last Thursday I had a medical appointment. While I was sitting in the waiting room, another patient and I got into a conversation. Within minutes, we were chatting about having grown up in Alabama; she in a part that I was familiar with because of visits to my grandmother. In addition, I told her about having met a man Sunday who was also from the same town!
In the course of the conversation, she told me about having grown up poor in Alabama (something I could relate to). She then told me about her marriage. When she and her husband got married, they borrowed $50 from one relative and a car from another relative so that they could have a honeymoon in the nearest large town. At that time, jobs were scarce in the area in which they lived. A popular job was to haul gravel in the back of a truck for a man who paid the drivers a fee. With no other options available, her husband bought a truck and hauled gravel, along with many others in the area. When it came time to pay the haulers, the man only paid a tenth of what he had originally promised. At this point, there were car notes, gas and (presumably) insurance to factor into the monthly expenses which were originally based on a much larger figure. In addition, she was now pregnant. A cousin who worked for the post office offered to put in a word to help her husband get a job as a mailman. He got the job, they soon moved and her husband started delivering mail. Over time, as a result of his work ethic, his managers promoted him. His final promotion – postal inspector – allowed them to live an exceptionally comfortable life far removed from the days of $50 honeymoons and underpaid gravel hauling. The job required that they move around quite a bit and the cities she named were all places in which I had either lived or were near where I had lived.
The family of three eventually grew to four as she had two daughters. She mentioned that, growing up, her family had never owned a house but over time she and her husband had owned houses and she herself had sold houses as a real estate agent. Her husband died some years ago and she said she missed him and wished that he were still around (they would have been married around 60 years by now). Her daughters moved to different parts of the country ages ago. Yet, the 76-year old woman I met was a vivacious woman who was looking forward to going through her scheduled doctors’ visits that day, then joining one of her best friends for a girl’s night out dinner and movie. Before we said goodbye, she wished me luck in what I’m trying to do. I told her that, during our conversation, I picked up that she was in a place of contentment in her life that shone through in her personality while we spoke and that I enjoyed our conversation.
Soon thereafter, my name was called and I was no longer waiting. Yet, I could have waited and chatted all day…
I ride my bike. A lot. I ride back and forth to work and everyone else I wish to go. The library is especially key to several of my treks. Although a large part of my route is usually along a rather busy street, I meander around side-streets as well. Most drivers find a way to share the road with me, the lone bicyclist. There are some who blow to show their annoyance that they had to move their wrist a fraction of a degree to the left in order to safely pass me. Others blow because they know me from somewhere. Others still, blow because they want me to be aware of them coming up from behind. Sometimes, I provide a good laugh for those who like to do things to scare me – like screaming out the window just as they pass or blowing the deep, loud horn that sounds like the Love Boat setting sail for an exotic destination. Why someone would want that for a car horn, I have no idea but it does exist much to my chagrin.
All in all, cars and I coexist on the streets and roads upon which I travel. With one exception, that is. Once, I was traveling on a side-street with no shoulder. As a car passed, I could hear the passenger yell something out of the window as they passed. Due to the Doppler Effect, I could not understand the exact words that were being yelled at me. However, I did pick up from the tone that the comment was mean-spirited and hateful. Because the street was clear, I gave an extended one-finger salute to Mr. Passenger. Weeks later, as I was leaving work on a Sunday, I, again, was yelled at from the passenger window of a car. This time I distinctly understood, “you must want someone to run your little ass over on that bike” being yelled out the passenger window as I safely rode on the shoulder, well to the right of the white line.
The first incident felt slightly random. This one, however, felt deeply personal. It felt like a threat. In hearing and understanding what was being said, I picked up on an almost predatory, menacing power behind the words. Later as I thought about it, I realized it may have been the same Mr. Passenger in a different car who didn’t appreciate my extended one-finger salute to his first effort at communication. I consider myself somewhat happy-go-lucky (only somewhat). As I go about my life, I do not antagonize people and expect that they will not antagonize me. Yet, from the first time Mr. Passenger yelled out the car window, something innate about me riding my bike antagonized him and he lashed out at me. Not interested in cowering on the bike, being a pedaling victim, I saluted him. From our second encounter, I take it he didn’t appreciate my response (or any response from a place of power). I mentioned the two incidents to one of the police officers I know so that I could ascertain the best avenue of response in the event Mr. Passenger decided to harass from a car again. After our conversation, I felt pretty good about being able to nip the problem in the bud if it reoccurred.
Then, one day while eating lunch outside with my bicycle parked nearby, I had a person that I knew of from a peripheral degree say hello. I was immersed in a book that I was reading and looked up to see who was speaking, smiled and said “oh, hello” in somewhat of a distracted manner. He then said something else at the same time an ambulance or fire truck was screaming up the nearby street and I didn’t hear what he said. I probably had my face frowned in concentration because his lips were moving and all I could hear was the siren and other traffic noise. I told him that I was sorry but I didn’t hear what he said. When he repeated himself, I still didn’t understand because of the remaining traffic noise (or am I hard of hearing already?). When I told him I still didn’t hear what he said, he then took a step closer and asked “what part didn’t I understand”. I explained that I didn’t hear him because of the noise. He then replied that one day someone was going to run me over while I’m riding my bike on the road that leads to and from work. The same road on which the second encounter occurred. The same statement without the cursing this time. I now feel as if I know who Mr. Passenger is. Because we work in the same place (different company) I now understand why the second encounter felt so personal. It also makes sense, because the second encounter was on a day that we both got off work at the same time. It could have been a coincidence but it just doesn’t feel that way.
I have now prepared myself somewhat for the possibility of a third encounter (other than being run off the road, there’s no real way to prepare for that) and will also have a conversation with the powers that be about my suspicions so that there is a record of these incidents – just in case. In the meantime, happy-go-lucky-but-prepared me continues to ride…
“Literacy is much more than an educational priority – it is the ultimate investment in the future and the first step towards all the new forms of literacy required in the twenty-first century. We wish to see a century where every child is able to read and to use this skill to gain autonomy.”
Irina Bokova, UNESCO Director Genera
http://www.unesco.org/new/unesco/events/prizes-and-celebrations/celebrations/international-days/literacy-day/
Today is (better yet – was) International Literacy Day. It is a day focused on expanding literacy to include populations with low levels of literacy and to expand the definition of literacy to include skills suited for the 21st century’s technological advancements in populations where reading, writing and arithmetic are already at adequate levels. “See Spot run” is 20th century literacy (which is still necessary). The amount of knowledge necessary to remain relevant in this century encompasses an ever-increasing ability to navigate the explosion of technological advances brought about by the internet. Literacy of the future may come to mean having the ability to understand “See Spot run” on a reading comprehension level (what was Spot doing?) AND create a computer representation of Spot running (creating/posting a video of a dog running).
Reading is something I continue to enjoy doing. I recently got my library card and was over the moon. I’ve trekked back and forth to the library on an almost weekly basis. Upon entering the library one day, I recalled a part of my summertime happiness – going to the library to pick out the books I wanted to read as opposed to the books assigned for me to read during the school-year. I would play and/or hang out during summer’s daylight. However, at night, I would stay up late to read a book. Sometimes, I would even forgo telephone conversations with friends if a call came in during the exciting part of my book. Anyone who knows me knows I L-O-V-E to talk on the phone; and that started early. However, phone conversations easily took a backseat to books. I could sit quietly for hours submersed in another world created by the book that I was reading. I was the proverbial bookworm.
As an adult, I value my continued love of reading, for it has allowed me to move seemingly effortlessly through worlds totally different than my own. Random minutiae from various books have allowed me to connect with and understand people far removed from my set of personal life experiences. Descriptions of foreign people and places drove (and continue to drive) my interest in seeing the world. Long before the US State Department issued my passport and I boarded a flight to an international destination, my first passport was issued by the local library and I traveled far and wide utilizing a combination of an author’s place descriptions and my own imagination to make the little black words on the white page come alive in my mind. It is through reading that I continuously seek to assimilate more knowledge into everyday life.
Just as my reading another author’s words inspired me to imagine the world and context they created or described, it inspires me to leave just a little bit of what’s in and/or on my mind as well by way of writing. As a 21st century adjunct to writing, sometimes I just post a video when original words fail me. As such, I straddle literacy of both centuries.
Children learn by example and one of their favorite ways of learning is by imitation. If you hate to read, pick up a book when you’re around a child and just stare at it, making sure to turn the page from time to time. If you love to read, read a book to a young child. Although it is not the gift often hoped for, gift a child with a book suited to their interests. Stepping back into this century, give them an eBook they can read on a tablet, if they have one. Turn the tables, have them write something from their imagination for YOU to read. In giving a child a book, you are in essence giving them an increased chance of success far beyond the realm of a standardized test – but an increased chance of success in life.
PS: Special thanks to Beth, whose blog post regarding International Literacy Day inspired my wanting to also say a few words in its honor.
PPS: I hung out at the library yesterday afternoon in order to hear a presentation on local name origins. My library card is the gift that keeps on giving…
This has to be one of the most laid-back and mellow songs I’ve ever heard. I’ve already listened to it twice so I’m too mellow to write more…
In Snakes, Snakes, Snakes, I wrote about being frightened by a snake on my path while bicycling months ago and seeing a few dead snakes as well. I don’t feel alone in my aversion to snakes because it is a rather common phobia/fear/aversion. It used to be that I would jump out of my skin if I simply saw a snake on TV (worse would be a larger-than-life, big-screen snake while at the movies).
A few years ago, I had an exceptionally vivid dream that involved snakes. Instead of being in fear of them in my dream, I was at peace with them and there was an element of camaraderie between the snakes and I. The dream was so powerful and significant feeling that I wondered if I had lost my fear of snakes. I never tested the theory because I seldom watch TV and had not really seen any movies with snakes in them. I still lived in Saint Louis at the time, so I was far enough removed from “the wild” as to not have much of an opportunity to run across a snake in my daily life (although I had seen possums, bats and a coyote there). After a time, I kind of forgot about the nature of the dream and my curiosity regarding my fear potentially having dissipated.
This past week, I was filling time and meandered into a pet store which, among many other things, sold snakes. There was a baby ball python in his tank and I decided to face my fear of snakes in a limited way. I stood in front of the tank for probably 10 minutes just looking at the snake as it undulated around the tank going from being exposed on a faux tree limb to hiding in a faux tree trunk towards the back of the tank. After a while, it came out of its hiding place and moved towards the glass of the tank to check out what was going on. All the while, I stood there observing the snake with no fear. Even when the snake was near the glass and looking out towards me, I continued to observe the snake. No fear. As a matter of fact, I looked so long and so hard that I could appreciate some aspect of beauty the snake possessed. In return for the snake’s part in my experiment, I sent the snake Reiki to help it feel calm and peace in what I perceived to have been a chaotic environment. At one point, someone tapped on the glass of the tank which I found to be downright annoying. In reading, ball pythons are pretty docile but also extremely nervous. Tapping on the glass seemed like an upsetting event for an animal that is easily nervous.
Standing in front of the tank, observing the snake forever was one step forward in facing just one of my fears. In an earlier conversation with someone I actually attempt to heed when she speaks, she mentioned the unnecessary weight of fear that I carry regarding New Orleans. In Cajun Chaos, I recounted my early run-in with New Orleans which led to my vowing to not come NEAR New Orleans – EVER. It is an amazing testament to the concept of “never say never” that I live so close right now. Just as I was able to move beyond my fear and find some semblance of beauty in the python, the next task is to move beyond the fear of being a victim of violent crime in order to find the beauty in New Orleans. That can only be done when I stop cowering and turn to face New Orleans.
I’ve posted the video below because the story the video tells is about fear. Notice how, initially, the sound of the one guy walking behind the main character creates the tension. Yet, as the main character continues walking, his fear increases as the one guy becomes two, then, three. As his fear increases, the three increase to legions. The harder the main character runs away from the legions of menacing people chasing him, the more people there are chasing him. Finally, he stops and turns around. And they stop. As he faces the initial two who followed him, they both smile as if to acknowledge that he has just figured out their secret. It is at that point that he takes his first step towards the menacing legions. And they recede away from him. He takes another step forward and they recede. With each step forward he takes, they, as a group, recede until he is running towards them and they are now running FROM him. And that is the nature of fear; it dogs your every footstep or footfall as long as it is behind you. Yet, once you turn to face the fears and walk towards them, they disappear.