Friendly Friday: Speak about an individual who makes me grateful.
This is a tough one to start, because I have been blessed with so many kind people in my life. But I think it's best to begin with the first stranger I remember being kind to me: Ghandi.
Not that Ghandi.
When I was little, I was woefully inept and socially oblivious. I was able to forge meaningful relationships in my classroom environments and at home I had the upper hand, being the eldest, but I ran into the greatest difficulty in transit. The bus could be hell. People just didn't want to sit next to me for some reason...except for one, gap-toothed overweight Indian kid named Ghandi. We struck up a casual seat-buddy friendship and he took me under his wing. He was kind and made me origami frogs. He was an unabashed exile, and I was recruited to be in exile with him. I have no idea what we spoke of, or if we spoke at all. It feels like sometimes the whole exchange was conducted in silence, with an unspoken understanding of our suffering and our alliance. He was a few years ahead of me, so he wasn't my seat-buddy for long, but I did keep all his frogs. There was something magical, something sacred about them.
Years later, Ghandi was the drum major for the marching band. I was a drummer myself, but we didn't interact much, and I don't know if he even remembered me. But there was one interaction I recall vividly:
My best friend Isaac and I were hanging out in the summer-leased dorms at Adrian college, plotting mischief and eating sunflower seeds, and Ghandi entered the doorway of our room. He stood there for just a moment, and we exchanged glances anxiously, curious as to why this upperclassmen chose to give us the time of day.
(Note: It's important to know that Isaac is of Japanese descent at this point.)
Ghandi took a breath, and with a stone cold gaze at me exclaimed, "What up Cracka?" then he turned to Isaac. "Nip." and then left the room. We broke out laughing, because no one would believe that this mild-mannered guy would have called us both racial slurs and he knew it, and that's why he did it in the first place. But the intention wasn't out of hatred, it was a way to bring us in, make us feel accepted. One man's slur is another boy's origami frog.
What a guy.
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This is a tough one to start, because I have been blessed with so many kind people in my life. But I think it's best to begin with the first stranger I remember being kind to me: Ghandi.
Not that Ghandi.
When I was little, I was woefully inept and socially oblivious. I was able to forge meaningful relationships in my classroom environments and at home I had the upper hand, being the eldest, but I ran into the greatest difficulty in transit. The bus could be hell. People just didn't want to sit next to me for some reason...except for one, gap-toothed overweight Indian kid named Ghandi. We struck up a casual seat-buddy friendship and he took me under his wing. He was kind and made me origami frogs. He was an unabashed exile, and I was recruited to be in exile with him. I have no idea what we spoke of, or if we spoke at all. It feels like sometimes the whole exchange was conducted in silence, with an unspoken understanding of our suffering and our alliance. He was a few years ahead of me, so he wasn't my seat-buddy for long, but I did keep all his frogs. There was something magical, something sacred about them.
Years later, Ghandi was the drum major for the marching band. I was a drummer myself, but we didn't interact much, and I don't know if he even remembered me. But there was one interaction I recall vividly:
My best friend Isaac and I were hanging out in the summer-leased dorms at Adrian college, plotting mischief and eating sunflower seeds, and Ghandi entered the doorway of our room. He stood there for just a moment, and we exchanged glances anxiously, curious as to why this upperclassmen chose to give us the time of day.
(Note: It's important to know that Isaac is of Japanese descent at this point.)
Ghandi took a breath, and with a stone cold gaze at me exclaimed, "What up Cracka?" then he turned to Isaac. "Nip." and then left the room. We broke out laughing, because no one would believe that this mild-mannered guy would have called us both racial slurs and he knew it, and that's why he did it in the first place. But the intention wasn't out of hatred, it was a way to bring us in, make us feel accepted. One man's slur is another boy's origami frog.
What a guy.
Haiku of the Day:
Bizarre day, traversing
a conscious realm unfettered
with bleary sight-lines
Today's Drawing (inspired by the word "Precocial" snagged from the Merriam-Webster word of the day. Meaning: Having a high degree of activity after birth.)
Today's "365" Project (Buy a new thing from the grocery store, (in my case it was beer,) and make something out of it.)
"GETSLIMCRASH: The Screaming Ring"
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