John is one of those rare people whose eyes are different colors: the left being blue, the right brown. Even though you have seen him a hundred times, it is not surprising that you never noticed because, like most people, you cross to the other side of the street when you see him.
Or, more aptly, when you hear him.
John is a screamer. He stands at the corner of 8th and Main between 11am and 1pm every workday and yells about something.
And, the same way you never really see him, you don't really hear him, either.
Like you, I never paid much attention to him. I just assumed that he was a nut case and I tuned him out as I hurried past on my way to something more important.
Then, about a month ago, I agreed to meet a friend for lunch at the Main Street Cafe which is at the corner of Main and 8th. I arrived a few minutes early and decided that the time would be best spent enjoying the sprintime sunshine from a bench outside the restaurant.
As I waited I watched people passing on the street. The screamer was there and he was carrying on as usual.
The first thing that I noticed was that there was never any eye contact. The screamer never looked directly at anyone, he always directed his comments to an empty space on the sidewalk.
Those passing never looked at him. Invariably, they looked down. Even if they had been looking up as they approached, when they got close to the screamer their steps became more purposeful and their gaze fell as far as possible while allowing them to continue walking without colliding with anyone or anything in front of them.
It was an interesting observation and I assumed that it was a way for both parties to remain disassociated and, therefore, non-confrontational.
As I watched I looked directly at the screamer. What I saw was not what I expected.
The first thing I saw was that the book that he was holding was not a bible as I had always assumed. It was Kurt Vonnegut's
Breakfast Of Champions.
That piqued my interest and I started listening to what the screamer was saying.
"Read the directions and directly you will be directed in the right direction."
OK, he wasn't quoting the bible. The quote was familiar and it took me a minute to recall that it was spoken by the Doorknob in
Alice In Wonderland.
My cellphone rang and it was my friend explaining that she was stuck in a meeting with a client and would not be able to make lunch. That was OK with me because what I was observing on the street was turning out to be entertaining.
When I hung up, he was still quoting from Alice. This time it was the Cheshire Cat. "Oh, you can't help that. Most everyone's mad here. You may have noticed that I'm not all there myself."
Then, without transition, the screamer started quoting Stephen Hawking. "We are just an advanced breed of monkeys on a minor planet of a very average star. But we can understand the Universe. That makes us something very special."
I was fascinated and rather than miss this little show, I walked the twenty feet to the push cart on the corner and ordered a hot dog and a soft drink.
He stumped me with the next quote. "All things truly wicked start from innocence." Which I later learned was from Hemingway.
While I ate, the screamer was a non-stop fountain of amazing quotes. The stream of hang-dog people continued to hurry past all shrunken-necks and hunched shoulders.
My lunch hour was almost over so I looked around for a hat or a box to put a tip in but there was none. I hated to leave without letting the screamer know that I appreciated what he was doing so I walked over by him and just stood there. It took him a minute but he finally looked up at me and when he did I just nodded, mouthed the words "Thank you" then turned and walked back to the office.
As I tested for freshness, squeezing and sniffing my way through a Saturday morning farmers market I heard a voice behind me softly say, "You are welcome."
There, behind me, was the screamer. He was talking in a normal tone and extending his hand. We shook and he introduced himself as John.
I had a million questions but before I could ask even one, a small girl ran up yelling, "Daddy, daddy, look what we found!" She was holding a pineapple that looked as sunny and as sweet as her smile. He picked her up, high into the air, both laughing. He twirled her around once, twice, three times then brought her down, hugged her to himself and kissed the top of her head.
Still holding the girl with her pineapple, he reached out and took the hand of the woman standing beside him. Before they turned to go he looked over at me and quietly said, "See you around."
On sunny days I go for a hot dog at the corner of 8th and Main. I sit and enjoy the weather. I watch the people and I listen.
I still have a million questions but I would settle for an answer to just one.
