becoming like a child: rebirth

03Jul08

This week on the Brown line, while stuck on the elevated tracks next to an Orange line for about 15 min during rush hour, folks became quite restless.  Tempers were boiling, and everyone was anxious to go home.  Folks jostled each other, vying for personal space, and the car began to get hot.  The Taste of Chicago is going on, which only added to the normally crowed train.  I was reminded of the old game we used to play in high school called “Sardines” where one person was “it” and had to go hide.  In this Through-the-Looking-Glass version of Hide-n-Seek, one person (‘it’) goes and hides.  The rest of the group goes individually in search of the person hiding.  When you find this person, you quietly hide with them.  The last person to find the pack of “sardines” is the loser… and it begins again.

I had to laugh: in my business suit with leather computer bag, I was imagining a city-wide game of Sardines.  I get nervous in these crowed environments, and find myself trying to take up as little space as possible.  I also try to just blend: I don’t need to necessarily add to the mayhem… it wasn’t a far leap.

Not unlike “Sardines”, the train smelled of recess: sweaty bodies who’d been out in the sun, mixed with sweet soft drinks and salt.  At any rate, it was crowded and noisy on the train and moods were taking a turn for the worst.  I turned my attention away from the crowded train and looked out the window towards my only other view: directly into the train parked next to us.  Those folk looked equally miserable.

It was then when I noticed the perfect embodiment of Andy Taylor’s Opie on the train next to me: a little mussy-haired red headed boy.  It was his tongue which caught my attention: a kool-aid colored tongue stinking straight out at me.  His brow was furrowed with intensity.  It was his attitude which captured my affection.  In utter abandon, I returned the gesture.

My friend changed his affect: this time, puffing his cheeks out and crossing his eyes.  Again, I aped the gesture.  He scrunched up his eyebrows; I did too.  He showed me his gums by pulling each cheek out ward with his index fingers; I did as well.  Finally, he burst out laughing; as did I.  It was then I noticed that we’d become the show of both his car and mine. 

I haven’t blushed that much in years.  And as his train slid away from mine, I thanked God for this young devil.

Filed under: Child-likeness   |  3 Comments