Rise & Reach Back, #1

People need each other.  Unfortunately, the “rise and grind” mentality of American Culture does a great job of forcing independence upon us and distracting us from our humanity.  Humanity is hard to force out though.  It pulls on our heart strings as we drown out the pleas of the homeless on the train.  It jerks tears from us when we overhear a child being teased or abused. It hastens you to stop someone and call attention to their untied shoe or unzipped fly, (lol).  It smiles at strangers who make eye contact as you pass.

Sometimes though, I feel like we have separated ourselves so much from our humanity that we simply do not allow it and room to operate.  Everything has a predetermined, socially correct action.  Everyone has an image to maintain.  Everyone must do what they must to get ahead of the next person.  It’s uncomfortable, competitive, and more importantly, it really doesn’t work.  Rewards are not won by those who conform the most. Most importantly, ignoring the homeless man doesn’t make him go away or make her not ask for change .  Yet most of us, most of the time, operate within the rules of normal, socially accepted isolation.

In consideration of the institution of confinement, I’ve decided to include a “Rise and Reach Back” series to this blog.  The series is dedicated to the times when someone did more than just “rise and grind.” The times when one life touches another; regardless of culture, of class, or of perspective.  The times when someone pressed a little harder against life to share their humanity.  This is where social justices will be recognized.  This series is where I will attempt to share moments when something someone did, small or large, touched the life and heart of someone else.

This is the first of said installment:

My close friend Jose and I were on a bus in Chicago headed to a park to be tourists and soak up some summer sun.  Seated in front of us, in aisle facing seats, were a brown skinned little boy, who looked to be about 7, and his mother.  We sat in silence mostly, exhausted by the hot sun, and paying close attention to the stops as not to get lost.  I feel Jose lean in and dig into his pocket.  He settles back into his seat and I see he has a pack of gum. He pops a piece in his mouth, and then hands me a piece.  He then looks at the little boy before us eying the candy, and with a shift of his eyes and a shake of the candy, offers the little boy near us a chew.  The little boy glances up at his mother, who gives the youngster a nod of approval and then the boy eagerly reaches his hand out for the gum.  Jose pushes a chicklet of gum through the thin foil back and places it in the little boys palm.  As the boy puts the gum into his mouth, his eyes meet Jose’s. Jose nods, the little boy nods and I smile.

We exited the bus a few stops later, and I asked Jose why he had offered the little boy some gum.  “I mean,” I explained, “that could have gone entirely wrong!  The boys mom could have freaked out at some stranger on a bus offering her son candy.  How many times had he likely heard his mother tell him, ‘don’t talk to strangers’ and here he was being offered candy right from the palms of an outsider!”  The interaction was so simple but the energy that emanated from it was immeasurable.  It made me smile.  Not a word was spoken, but the humanity of it made me happy and I wanted to know what prompted his behavior.

Jose smiled and said; “It’s hard out here for little brown boys.”

Funny how much can be said without speaking.  It was such a small gesture, but it was heartfelt and meaningful. It was so much bigger than offering gum to some one on the train, which most of us would never do for fear of being looked at strangely or hearing that word none of us really care for: “no.”  It was about a moment where, without words, two people of color, connected, respected and were at peace – and all it took was the silent offering of a piece of gum.

This scenario played out over 3 years ago, but it stuck with me.  When I think of Jose, it is one of the incidences that come to mind and I think that speaks volumes about his character.

Tagged as: life, Rise & Reach Back