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Out of sync with society
Wednesday January 11, 2006
Picture a winter morning in Edmonton. A
winter Sunday morning. The sun has not yet peeked over the eastern horizon. The
streets are slick with ice. And about as empty as the occasional beer can that
litters the gutter.
I'm out walking the dogs, whose bladders don't particularly care that
this is supposed to be a day of rest. We cover several blocks without seeing a
soul.
At a bus stop, a man waits patiently for his bus to show up. He's
nondescript, wearing a slightly worn parka, hood tossed back, and carrying a
sack that resembles a soiled pillow case.
“Hi,” he says, as the dogs and I stroll by. “Nice morning, eh?”
We chat for a few minutes. About nothing in particular. Certainly
nothing memorable – just minor pleasantries about the weather, pets, and life in
general. Then the dogs drag me off to complete our walk, so that they can check
every fire hydrant and tree to see if any other dogs left messages overnight.
And I catch myself wondering – and please, I don't mean to offend anyone
by this description – if the man waiting for the bus was slightly retarded
mentally, or whatever the acceptable term is this year.
Non-conforming behavior
It wasn't anything he
said. It was more the fact that he got into conversation at all.
More and more, I find that people in cities don't want to make contact
with other people. On sidewalks or in elevators, they will look anywhere to
avoid meeting someone else's eyes. In buses or parks, they wear earphones to
make sure they don't have to hear anything but their own pre-programmed music.
In restaurants, they erect invisible shields around their tables. In cars, they
keep windows and radios cranked up to shut out traffic noises. On trains and
planes, they hide behind books and newspapers…
Lofty isolation used to be the preserve of the wealthy and the
eccentric. Now the eccentrics are those who don't isolate themselves.
So to voluntarily enter into a conversation with a stranger suggests
that this person might not be completely oriented to the realities of life in a
big city.
Who's well adjusted, anyway?
But why, I then start
to wonder, should I presume that a person who's friendly enough to start
chatting with a stranger must have something wrong with him? Shouldn't I be
wondering if there's something wrong with all the rest of us – all those
“normal” people who hide behind their technology to avoid taking the risk of
actually encountering other humans? Shouldn't I ask if there's something wrong
with a civilization that teaches us -- sometimes subtly, sometimes blatantly --
that you can't trust anyone you don't know?
In truth, maybe the man at the bus stop is actually better adjusted than
the rest of us.
As I walked away, I felt guilty for even letting the thought cross my
mind that he might have any intellectual deficiencies.
And I wondered if he was thinking the same about me.
Copyright © by Jim Taylor. Non-profit use in congregations and study
groups permitted; all other rights reserved.
To send comments on this column, email
Jim Taylor
directly. You can also receive Jim's column by email. Contact him at
jimt@quixotic.ca
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