Looking Through a Flawed Lens

 

Looking Through a Flawed Lens

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

An acquaintance stopped by the other day for a visit. Most people would have said, a friend.

Another man, a close friend from years ago, whom I miss terribly but can visit only in memory, used to say, we have few friends. Most people we know are business acquaintances. I’ve thought about his saying often.

My visitor definitely fits into the transactional group. I’ve known him for several years now but I so easily forget the rules. (His.) I expect a visit to be an interchange of ideas, experiences, even, opinions, worthless opinions but kind of fun.

This man lives on a one-way street, so to speak. He speaks, graces me with his wisdom. I listen and stomp on my tongue. He is a good person, kind, generous, caring. My job is to listen.

I can’t keep calling him “that man” so I’ll call him “Sir”. Sir will never read this.

May I give you an example of why my tongue has footprints? Sir said, “People should make the opportunities to travel while they are young and can really enjoy the experiences, not wait until they are old and can barely get around.” He was referring specifically to a young woman, who, incidentally, does not work. Sir finances her trips and good for her. I say that with no sarcasm.

I said, “That’s great. In theory, I can agree. Not everybody can up and go.”

Sir said, “Sure they can. Anybody can do anything they want. When they want to do a thing, they will find a way.”

Here I had to clamp both feet, ten toes, on my tongue. Sir, I thought, you are male, white, from a solid middle-class background. For you, I thought, that is so, has always been so. You have never stood in a queue for commodities, food stamps, low-income housing, with a toddler hanging on your legs, or for any other help and been grateful that it was there when you needed it. You have never questioned your ability to walk down a street and not be assaulted.

Flawed lenses. You can see my bias plainly.

Sir’s lenses are smudged on the other side. We can only see through the lenses we are given, our life experiences. If we are really, really lucky, we also get to learn how to see, in a limited way, from other persons’ perspectives.

The best I can, I listen. When you speak, I want to hear your story, to know who you are.

I read, a lot. In a story, whether there are six or sixteen major characters, I get to live their lives through their experiences. I lose myself in reading. I learn a lot.  

One time I asked Sir if he’d like to borrow this really good book I’d just finished, thought he’d like it. “I don’t read books,” he replied. “I read enough in University and I’ve learned everything I need to know.”

Wow. Superglue my lips. I hope I never learn enough. I hope the Great Wonderful never reaches across with a lens cleaner and wipes your glasses, Sir. You need your smudges.

I’m fortunate. I’ve colored outside the lines I was handed. I suppose you can say I’m still living outside those lines. 

Sondra Ashton

HDN: Looking out my back door

June the Beginning Thereof

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________