Aug. 04, 2003 - 15:37 MDT

THE WONDERING JEW

That Is Humanity

Maybe I have hexed myself or psyched myself as the case maybe and how others view the results. This will be the third attempt to make my Saturday entry.

Going to Costco is usually fun for me, but we went to that zoo on Saturday afternoon and so did the rest of the shopping world I think.

The little shopping that I can do to help gets done quickly, then transferred from my grocery buggy to Heather's. Then I, lazy slob that I am wheel my cart and oxygen bottle and notebook over to the snack area and find a table where I can sit.

It gives me more enjoyment than a movie perhaps. I get a soda from the machine, don't need any popcorn and just sit and survey. Watch people in their infinite variety. Different ages, sexes, physical conditions -- and then faces which often seem to me to reflect the inner person driving that body.

My very favorite people of course are the young. The little ones who don't talk yet have various ways of gaining one's attentions, maybe a little strut or other show off type of thing, or in the case of little girls many of them flirt a bit. Boys or girls are intrigued with my double eye-wink and often turn their faces inside out trying to do that.

Then the boys, talking or not are fascinated with my oxygen gear, little ones will get to it and try for bells and whistles, especially so if their parents don't holler at them. I make sure they don't hurt themselves on their push pull exercise. Today a lady with two little boys both bursting with the joie de vivre, one talking, one not ready yet sat at the table next to me. The talkative one's mouth was going a mile a minute, his Mom would answer his questions if she could and show that she was paying attention to him as he talked. After while I heard her say, "I don't know, why don't you ask him." She had seen me doing the wink bit and smiling thing and perhaps she thought I would satisfy the boy's curiosity politely. Now that was a compliment to me. Charged with the responsibility, it was necessary for me to quickly think and find the words to explain to the little curious cat the mysteries and need for bottled oxygen in words he could understand. Which I did, with the help of his Mom as I couldn't hear what he said and she would quote him to me. What a thrill it is to me when the light of understanding comes over the face of a little one and the mental sigh of ("now, that is answered) given is almost audible.

Then too, I am open to conversation to anyone, young or old and interesting things are often talked about. There are the white haired people, couples somewhat like Heather and I, pushing a grocery buggy, more or less leaning on each other while they slowly move down the aisles shopping, finally proceeding through the check out station.

It is easy to tell who the perambulators are, they are the ones like me who find a table and a seat and patiently wait for the ambulators to finish up the shopping.

Some of the "baggers" and checkers are familiar to me and I can often tell when they have changed hair styles and the men have started growing beards or mustaches or shaved one or the other off, little things but fun to check out, and it always makes me feel at home to be around people I have often seen at work there.

Some people proceed through the place in a leisurely way and some are in a horrible, tearing hurry. Each go their own pace. Somehow the ones who are in such a blooming hurry do not engage in fisticuffs with the slow pokes, the poky ones giving way and the speedsters weaving and doing the fast-lane bit. Then at the check stands the checkers are frantically moving people past their registers and a steady stream of people move out toward the parking area.

A cross section of humanity perhaps ? Not quite I think, maybe a good average. Uncounted and unnoticed are the bedridden and homeless. But every color, style, mode and combination of person is to be seen there. A kaleidoscope of folk ?

Then my wild imagination takes over again and I picture myself in their bodies and heads while doing the things I think they might do, knowing full well that I could be 180 degrees out of phase. Remembering folks I have known in the past, some who looked like football linemen and were interior decorators or watchmakers, and the ultra posh, superbly made up women dressed in the very latest style women I thought were high society types turned out to be school teachers, sales clerks and other people who had to work for a living. I never know but I sure have fun guessing.

A few clues help now and then such as black grease ground into hands, dirty work clothes or a white shirt with pens in the pocket give a bit of information. Must be a bit of Sherlock in me but not much Holmes. I chuckle when I remember a man who lived next door to us once. When he left home for work in the morning he appeared to be a "big wheel" somewhere. A sharp suit, shirt, necktie, expensive and shiny shoes. He apparently didn't like us common folk, not returning anone's greetings. One day when I was on business I passed a discount tire shop and saw him in dirty work clothes working hard on busting tires.

As I view the passing parade and see the various disabilities some people have I try to put myself mentally, in their shoes and walk a mile as hampered as they are. At the next table to me I saw a woman with an artificial limb trying to get her metal knee to bend so she could sit down. Apparently it wasn't adjusted quite right but she worked at it until it bent and she eased hereself in a seat. I imagined being a person in that state, trying to overcome problems such as she did and then thinking about climbing or descending stairs or trying any number of actions made difficult with a mechanical limb. Seeing people in casts is an easy thing for me to do, been there done that. I haven't encountered a person wearing a halo as I once did but my heart would go out to one in that devilish thing.

But it is the inner hurts and damages that people have that can be indicated by the set of their faces and sort of lackluster "one foot in front of the other" gait, that sadden me. I have been there too and realize that often no one can be of help to them except themselves if they should be so lucky.

But I am in my world and people it to my taste (in my head of course). Sort of a poor mans Sims world.

A trip to Costco for me is a walk through the forest That Is Humanity . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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