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........THE
FAMILIAR Vol 1, Iss 2..............................................................................................................................
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BEHIND
THE SCENES OF AN EMOTION LITERACY E-ZINE MISSION
STATEMENT THE FAMILIAR VOL. 1 ISS. 2. Missed an issue of the familiar? Click here to browse through our entire back-issue archive! |
untitled One thing I notice today is that none of us ever get any exposure to the world in which we live. We always hide, always seek the shadows of society like lepers. Why? Why are we afraid? What are we really hiding from? I never really noticed that until I got on the bus today. Taking a step into the neutral and equal realm of metro can be quite shocking. You never really know what's out there till you ride a metro. I saw a man on the bus. His plump little face was crinkled with healthy age. His cheeks glowed a lively red and tiny dimples shone through the extra padding around his jowls. His beady little eyes seemed to beam, even though half hidden 'neath a sagging layer of forehead. He wore a black polo shirt and nice khakis. He smiled as he spoke. His friendly demeanor seemed to draw people out of their corners and invite them to talk. He sat next to this cheery little girl, dressed in a blue and white polka dot dress. Her eyes beamed like the old man's, with cute red cheeks crinkled in smiles and laughs. When the little girl got on the bus, her little legs reaching for the next step up as if bridging a chasm, her mother, a kindly old Asian -off the boat?- hauling her up the stairs gently and lovingly by the arm, she and the old man shared a short glance at each other. It was amazing. I could almost see the sparks fly. The little girl's face exploded into a smile like fireworks, and the old man returned the warm attention with a smile of his own. The little girl padded over next to the old man and clambered into the seat, her mother across the aisle. I could sense something between these two. Their meeting was like a flashbulb going off. Every eye on the bus was awaiting their first words, like the collision of worlds. They sat there beaming their smiles at each other, each smile only seeming to shine brighter and brighter as the seconds ticked by. The old man with his old man dimples just stared -and smiled-, at the little girl who beamed just as defiantly. As our minds silently registered the seconds, something seemed to change. The atmosphere was all wrong, the fireworks were beginning to sputter and die. Some people raised eyebrows at the predicament which these two seemed to have stumbled into. The girl meandering blindly into it, shining her bright smile like a lantern into dark corners. The old man finally started to lean over next to the girl, his beaming smile slowly degenerating as he crept closer. His approach finally stopped a foot from her head. The jubilant smile on the little girl faltered in the man's disturbing closeness. The old man's eyes seemed to glimmer as he opened his mouth to speak. "I am the devil." He whispered. The fireworks began to plummet back to earth. "I am the devil! THE DEVIL! I can kill you all and leave you burning! BEWARE! I'll kill every last one o' ye!" His smile seemed to simmer as he stood up, towering over the little girl, booming damnations upon her head, each one falling upon her like a hammer blow. The girl leapt back, scrambling to flee the madman. "I AM THE DEVIL! I'LL KILL YOU ALL!" His voice raised to an insane tremolo as his voice cracked in insanity. Chaos ensued. The little girl's mother leapt up to cover her child, scrambling to protect her as the bus driver slammed on the brakes. The force threw me into the seat in front of me. Everything not bolted down sailed through the air. The old man suddenly took flight and crashed to the floor further down the aisle. The little girl screamed as she trembled in her mother's arms, both falling to the ground at the busses sudden stop. The screeching of brakes ground to a jarring halt and the driver flung open the doors. The old man clambered up from the floor and hurled himself out the door onto the plush grass of manicured lawn, rolling nimbly as he crashed down. He was on his feet again in a flash and took off running across the lawn, disappearing into a multistory retirement home. A wide-eyed silence followed the man's flight. Everybody got up and looked around at the bus-full of people. Those of us who had fallen resumed our seats as the doors closed with a metallic hiss and the bus rumbled off once again. I think I just answered my question. People can be very strange indeed. For many people, a situation like that can make them quiver at the sight of public transportation. That little girl will probably have nightmares for years, but the rest of us brushed it off like dandruff, just embarrassing and annoying. The bus driver resumed laughing and joking again soon after, and seemed to take it best of all. Well, he is the bus driver, and therefore obligated to stay on his charge no matter what the situation. For him, today was probably another normal day. He might mention this incident to his wife, but he's probably seen worse. It was all new for me though. I wonder what I'll see on the bus tomorrow. ELA’s footnote --what do you think may have been going on between the lines of what the man on the bus blurted out to that little girl? -if you could interview that man, what would you ask him about himself and what do you think he might say in response to your questions? --I invite some more personal commentary about the incident relative to what you do with that experience…where do you put it inside of yourself or do you just kind of shut it out and go on to the next diversion? --do you think it's worth trying to understand these kinds of things or is that just too hard to do, too much, too impossible? --there…several things to which I invite response. Interested? Please send email responses to editor@thefamiliar.org.
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