Celebrity

I was in O'Hare airport one day this week waiting for my next flight.  The airport had been closed earlier, so everything was backed up.  The seating in the gate area was totally filled, so I stood in the main corridor where I could see and hear in the event of a gate change or other announcement.  No point in being bored, so I entertained myself with "people watching."


My attention was drawn by two men coming in my direction.  Most people getting off a flight dash past looking here and there at the arrows that point to baggage claim or the nearest restroom.  These two men had a different demeanor.  They strode along purposefully, but not hurriedly.  They seemed like the kind of men who are used to being noticed.  They were dressed similarly in well-tailored black wool topcoats and black dress hats, such as my Dad wore in the 1950s.  One man had an attractive multi-colored scarf draped around his neck.  When they were within 10 feet of me, I realized the man on the left was Jesse Jackson.


A middle-aged black lady on the opposite side of the corridor came to the same realization and ran right up to him to shake his hand.  He did so graciously.  She returned to her place and immediately got on her cell phone,  "oh, my god, oh, my god....I can't believe it!"  she exclaimed into the phone..


I stood there pondering how much this chance encounter must have meant to her.  Then I tried to decide whom I could possibly meet that would cause me to be so excited.  I ran a bunch of names through my mind....politicians, musicians, actors and actresses.  Hmmmm....who on earth would "make my day."  I came up blank  I reran my list of handsome male actors through my brain....nope.  I guess celebrity just doesn't impress me.


I would love to meet someone with "gazillions" who was philanthropic.  I would try to convince him or her to throw some money towards the endeavor that our family has to help bare subsistence farmers in Third World countries grow sufficient crops to feed their families.  But, those kind of people aren't found walking through O'Hare.  They are on private jets and inaccessible to the masses.


Eventually I concluded that the only accidental meeting that would thrill me would be if I met some "long-lost" friend.  During my years in nursing school and college, I had friends with whom I have lost touch.  


If one of them walked by me in O'Hare...
If we managed to recognize each other after 40-plus years...
If we had time to at least exchange email addresses....
I would be genuinely excited.


Celebrity....not so much.

Public Characters

My definition of a Public Character is someone who stands out from the mass of humanity, a person who is highly visible, and recognized by many who don't actually know the person.  My definition does not include people who are supposed to be easily recognized, such as politicians, media personages and community leaders.  I think you need to be eccentric in order to be a true "public character."


Public Characters in my community:


*Some years ago there were twin ladies, elderly at the time and certainly deceased by now.  They had dressed alike every day of their lives.  Although they had married, they lived near each other and had continued to coordinate their attire.  At the time I noticed them, they were widowed and still strolling around town in identical wool plaid suits with matching hats.


*Two women, who rumor had it were former prostitutes, continued to wander the streets in old age.  One always dressed in a negligee...long before pajamas in public were the norm.  The other wore a trench coat, had a terribly pock-marked face, and a head of hair like a rat's nest.


*A man who was young when I first noticed him thirty years ago.  He had thick glasses and awkward movements, often wore pink slacks, and carried a purse.  Recently I saw him, looking much the same and riding a pink bike.


*A very thin elderly woman who lives a few blocks from downtown.  For many years she could be seen walking between her home and various supermarkets all day.  I talked with someone who believed that she spent her days doing this, because she lived alone and was terrified of dying alone or becoming ill and not being found.


*Currently, I often see a middle-aged black man who always dresses totally in white.  I know nothing of his story.


*I haven't seen her recently, but a lady often traveled our streets pushing a grocery cart with a dog in it.  The dog was usually wrapped up in a blanket.  I have seen her sitting on a bench cradling the dog as though it were a baby.  I wondered if she had lost a child.


*He was probably only a public character to me, but when I taught at the local community college, everyday on my way to work, I would drive past a man I figured to be a blue collar worker on his way to a local factory.  I noticed him, because he strode along with a purposeful gait, carrying his brown bag lunch hugged to his chest and in the crook of his arm.  I imagined him to be a former football player.  I thought that he, in Walter Mitty fashion, was fantasizing striding down the field for a touchdown with his lunch substituting for the football.


*My daughter is in the process of becoming a public character.  She has reinvented herself multiple times and is currently a "hippie."  She wears long skirts and bright colors, often walks barefoot in inclement weather, and has attempted to develop dreadlocks in her stick straight brown hair.  Envision here the previously mentioned "rat's nest," except that she has incorporated string, beads, locks of other people's hair and I'm-not-sure-what-else. I did not see this, but it has been reported to me, that she inserted herself into the town's holiday parade last November, walking barefoot in the cold and carrying a sign.


Am I a public character?  I was startled one day as I left a local store and headed for my car.  A woman, who I did not ever remember meeting, passed me in the parking lot and blurted out, "Oh...I know you!  You're the lady who ice-skates so beautifully!"  
This was surprising in multiple ways....I am not a great ice-skater.  All I do is go around in circles at the ice arena....nothing fancy.  I do not consider myself to stand out on a rink full of people.  Before even thinking, I said, "How do you know that?" 
"I've seen you at the arena, and I wish I could skate as well as you."  
This interchange surprised me so that I never came up with any response except a smile.  I thought afterwards that I could have said that I hadn't learned to skate until I was an adult, and that I was sure if she kept at it, she would skate well someday too. That is what I say if someone comments to me while I am actually skating. But, my brain had been shocked into a temporary shutdown by the notion that I was recognizable in public.  I expected a certain loss of anonymity after participating in an ad for television, but certainly not for just going to the ice rink for some exercise.  I later chided myself for not coming up with a gracious reply.


Public characters add color to our world.  We think we  "know" them, but we can only guess at the reasons behind the distinguishing characteristics that draw our attention.

The Bible as a Prop

Last night I was entering a McDonald's in the southern tier of New York State with my husband, daughter and grandson.  My grandson ran ahead to make maximum use of the Playland.  As my husband and I strolled in, we were greeted just outside the door by a man about our age holding a Bible.  I figured we were going to be approached about the status of our souls, but after he gave as an engaging smile and warm 'hello,' he added, "Could you buy a burger and drink for a hungry man?"


Ah...so that's the game. He had just lit up a cigarette, which he quickly snuffed, but he had that Bible held obviously in the other hand, and probably figured that lent him some worth which might get him noticed by someone with a Christian heart.  Hmmmmmmmmmm.


I motioned him to come in with us.  He stood in line next to me while others of my family used the rest room.  When my daughter came over to give me her order, she whispered, "Make a new friend, did ya?"


I asked the man a few questions...."Where are you from?"
"Washington, DC"
"What brings you here?"
"I'm visiting family in Pennsylvania and staying in a hotel nearby."
I wanted to ask, "Why do you smoke?  If you didn't have to buy cigarettes, you might have money for a burger and drink."  
But, I didn't.
We got our order and the man thanked me and went off to eat.  We ate in the Playland area keeping an eye on the grandson.


I did not explain to the man that he didn't need the Bible as a prop.  I have a policy never to give anyone money, since I don't know how they will spend it, but to always give food to anyone who asks.  I have done this in Waikiki Beach in Hawaii, Sarasota in Florida, in front of the local Walmart and probably some other places I don't remember.


But this, is the first time I have ever seen the Bible used as a prop.

I'm Not Impressed

"I'm not impressed."  Those were the first words I ever spoke about my husband.


My family had just moved to a new town.  I had been hearing ever since my parents had gone house-hunting in the new location, about a young man that they met when they visited a church in the area.  My mother came home excited to have me meet this nice guy.  I told her that I was not interested in having a boyfriend who would be 800 miles away when I returned to college.


I was home on summer vacation between college years, so I moved with my parents trying to be helpful with the packing, my younger brothers, and cleaning the new home.  Our first weekend in the new town, we all went to church.  The nice young man wasn't there, as he was away participating in a friend's wedding.  But, as would be admitted to me many months later, he hurried back and arrived just as church was concluding.  He knew I might be there, and the Pastor's wife had seen my picture and was teasing him about the new girl in town.  He, of course, did not give her the satisfaction of acting interested in me, but he did hurry back.


And so, it happened that my mother poked me and said, "Do you see that guy talking to your brother?  That's Bill."


"Hmmppff,"  I replied, "I'm not impressed."


He looked like a skinny high school kid.  He was actually 23, a year out of college, managing his family's business, and already a Rotarian.  But, he looked verrrrrry young, and being a distance runner, he was verrrrrrry thin.  I was 21, a registered nurse and working to put myself through college.  


We talked briefly that day...nothing special...no sparks.  Later in the week, a couple from the church had rented a cottage and invited all of the teens and singles in the church to come for a swim and a picnic.  I rode to the cottage with Bill's sister and her boyfriend.  Bill arrived later after finishing work.  Somehow during the evening, we began talking.  The conversation lasted the entire evening.  He asked if he could give me a ride home.  He had a '57 convertible.  The evening was warm, and the top was down.  During the ride, we discovered that we both liked songs from musicals and began singing loudly as the wind rushed past.


The conversation lasted another hour as we sat in his car in my parents' driveway.  I am absolutely positive my mother must have peeked out through the curtains, but nonetheless, when I came in the house, she asked, "So, who brought you home?"


I replied, "Bill...and...I'm impressed."


That was in August of 1966.  We were married when I finished college in June of 1968.


I'm still impressed.

Rhesus by Euripides

This is another play that is set in the Trojan War.  Hector and his troops and allies are camped outside of the walls of Troy.  They have just won a decisive victory over the Argives and have in mind to finish off the job tomorrow.  Word reaches Hector that there are fires burning all night in the camp of the invaders, and some think they may be preparing to take to their ships and sneak away under cover of darkness.  Hector sends Dolon to spy on them and determine their intent.  He does not want them to escape without inflicting further losses.  Dolon plans to sneak through the enemy camp hiding under a wolf skin.


Before Dolon returns, Rhesus and his troops arrive to help Hector.  Hector is really conflicted by this.  He has previously begged Rhesus for his help and is not pleased that Rhesus is arriving just in time to deliver the final blow.  Both Hector and Rhesus speak their minds openly.  When Rhesus reveals that he has been trying to come for years and was prevented by various battles that needed to be fought along the way, Hector gives in to the offer of his help.  The plan is to attack in the morning, so Rhesus and his men go to sleep.


Dolon never returns, because he has been captured and killed by Odysseus, who is on the Argive side.  Now Odysseus and Diomedes are sneaking around spying on the Trojans.  They kill Rhesus and steal his horses.  The charioteer of Rhesus accuses Hector of treachery since they were supposedly safely within Trojan lines.  The real treachery is from the goddess Athena who has been assisting Odysseus.


Rhesus was the son of a Muse who understands that his death would not have occurred without Athena's help.  The play ends with the Muse caring for Rhesus' burial, and Hector preparing to attack the enemies of Troy.


Interesting quotes:
Aeneas:  ...among mortals the same man is not dowered by nature with universal knowledge; each hath his special gift appointed him, thine is arms, anothers is sage counsel.  


Chorus:  Beware of what may chance; full oft doth fortune veer.  A little classier way of saying "Don't count your chickens before they hatch."


Hector:  I loathe the friend who brings his help too late.


So...the burning question which the play doesn't answer....Did some one shoot Dolon with an arrow or spear him, because they thought he was a wolf or because he was recognized as a spy?

Philoctetes by Sophocles

Poor Philoctetes....all of these Greek plays seem to have someone who has gotten the short end of the stick.  In this play it is Philoctetes who has been dealt a bitter lot by the gods.  He was once a mighty warrior, particularly skilled with bow and arrow, but following a viper bite on his foot which did not heal, he became odious to his comrades.  He was abandoned on a deserted and rarely visited island to fend for himself.  The reason given was that they could not properly make sacrifices and burn incense to the gods with someone in their company who had such a repugnant and putrefying wound.  I suppose the odor of the wound would have risen heavenward with the incense and aroma of the sacrifice, and therefore, made the sacrifice displeasing to the gods.


At least a decade has passed during which time, Philoctetes has lived in a cave and survived by hunting game with his bow and arrow.  But now, things have changed.  A prophet has declared that Troy will not be won without the skills of Philoctetes as an archer.  Odysseus, who was in the party that first abandoned  him, has now come to retrieve him.  Odysseus knows the resentment that Philoctetes will feel toward him and believes that he will only consent if he is tricked into it.


Odysseus enlists the help of Neoptolemus, a man unknown to Philoctetes.  Neoptolemus is a man who has a conscience and believes in telling the truth.  Initially, he does not want to be part of deception, but Odysseus convinces him that it is for the greater good.


When Philoctetes returns to his cave, he encounters Neoptolemus, who spins a convincing tale.  Philoctetes believes that Neoptolemus will take him back to his own country.  He even allows Neoptolemus to hold his bow while he rests.  But, Neoptolemus cannot fight his conscience indefinitely.  When Philoctetes awakens from his rest, Neoptolemus spills out the truth.


Odysseus arrives on the scene and is very angry.  An argument ensues.  In the end Heracles appears in the sky above them with a message from Zeus.  If Philoctetes will go with Odysseus and Neoptolemus to Troy, his horrible wound will be healed, he will help to defeat the Trojans and will be a hero.  Philoctetes consents.


Does the end justify the means?  In this play, the question is not really resolved.  A messenger from the gods swoops in at the crucial moment and tidies up the mess created by the lies.  We don't know whether the deception of Odysseus or the honesty of Neoptolemus would have brought about the best result.


Interesting quotes:
Odysseus: ...our honesty shall be shown forth another time.  But now lend thyself to me for one little knavish day, and then, through all thy days to come, be called the most righteous of mankind.


Neoptolemus:  But my wish, O King, is to do right and miss my aim, rather than succeed by evil ways.


Philoctetes:  ..wherein shall I praise them, when, praising the ways of the gods, I find that the gods are evil?


My thoughts?


I guess Odysseus hasn't figured out that if you ever lie, you have given others a reason to question you forever after.  Once your deceit is known, there is no hope of being thought righteous in the future...unless, there is some life-altering experience, followed by years of rejecting evil.  And even then.......others will be thinking,  "hmmm...I wonder...."


And here we are again with those Greek gods who are no better than the humans they manipulate.  What is the point of having capricious gods who have no moral standard?  The only purpose would be to try to explain the pain and suffering in the world.  But, they offer no genuine healing from it.  There is no Savior and no assurance of a better world after this one.  These gods are useless.

A Memory of Being Young and Powerless

Today as I tutored a high school student in biology, we went through a table of vitamins and why they are important to the functions of the body.  It has been many years, but Vitamin B-12 triggered an unpleasant memory.


At this time of year in 1965, I was in nursing school in the Chicago area and affiliating for 3 months at Chicago State Hospital.  In 1965 that place was a hell-hole in more ways than can easily be described.


I don't remember what ward I was working on, but I was instructed to leave my usual assignment and go to a huge ward where elderly people with dementia were warehoused....and I do mean, warehoused.  I was assigned to give each of them an injection of Vitamin B-12.


Dozens of frail old souls, who fortunately had no idea where they were, sprawled on rickety metal cots with plastic covered mattresses.  Most were naked or nearly so, and did not have a sheet between them and the plastic.  I watched as one aide put a sheet on the mattress without cleaning up the feces smeared on its surface.


It sickened me that I was powerless to change the situation.  I was a student with a tray of syringes.  My only function was to see that everyone got their Vitamin B-12 to satisfy some requirement and allow someone to put a check mark in the appropriate space.  Apparently there was no requirement for dignity, much less TLC.


I saw worse things there.  I wish I had had the power or courage to do something.  But, I was young...20 years old and trying to do what was expected of me.  Classmates came away from those three months rocking on the edge emotionally.  I survived.  But, the images are embedded in my mind.


I suppose the impact of such experiences is one reason I am so intolerant of people who are careless in their care of others or who take advantage of the vulnerable.  Last year, my mother-in-law was in a nursing home, and I walked in on an aide not cleaning her up properly.  I am no longer a powerless 20 year old, and I did not remain silent.  I am sure that some nice tolerant Christian ladies would think I was overly assertive...not gracious enough, but they have never stood in my shoes looking over a room of hurting souls with nothing in my hands but a tray of syringes filled with Vitamin B-12.