From the Other Side of the Edge…..
When Purity, and “Perspective”,…..Cure Cynicism

Moments matter. And so do the Little Things. What else is there?

This is a tough time of year to write anything political, and have it make any kind of sense, or be palatable in any sort of way.

Nothing’s happening, of any real note, and everything’s mostly on hold, until Congress, the President, and all the state legislatures and governors get back from their 7 to 9 week winter “vacations” (on guess who’s dime), to Hawaii and many other points west, south, warm, and sunny.

Everyone else is stuck where they are, still drudging forward, at their j-o-b’s, or looking for one, mostly in places east, north, cold, and snowy.

Those who pretend to care about such things, are busy re-capping the year’s events, good and bad, grading them in more “Top Ten” lists than any single human can endure, and then forecasting the future, or at least the coming new year, as if they had the only keys to Nostradamus’ secret “stash” closet.

I personally find either activity boring and distasteful, at least this particular year, and I must abstain completely, unless I want my lunch to re-cycle itself.

Mainly because I’m trying hard to forget about last year, and can’t stand the thoughts of more of the same, ….in the next one.

So, it’s tough to keep the chin up, and to believe that this “perfect storm” of political insanity, as well as these constant assaults on common sense, privacy, individual liberties, and on the Constitution itself (so well documented for the past twelve months) will right themselves any time soon, muchless in the next twelve.

One can just get too caught up in it all, and care too much, for one’s own good (and for those around, .…one).

And with no end in sight, it is more than understandable, that Cynicism is starting to get the upper hand, in its everyday ten rounder, with Reality.

No, not a good place to be, at least not a rational one, but what’s going to change all that mess, and exactly what’s there to look forward to, which will undo any of this nonsense and garbage??

But then, …as it so often seems to, …something Pure, and innocent, and life assuring, hits us squarely in the mug.

And so hard, that it changes our curmudgeonly Perspective,…..instantly.

It’s always unexpected, ….but clearly, just as unmistakable.

Makes us see the world as we should be seeing it, and NOT as someone else, who knows little of the real world, wants us to see it, and tries to make us see it,….or insists that we see it,….or legislates that we see it, …in a certain, and narrow way.

Something just so Pure, and refreshingly innocent and real, changed my perspective recently.

It wasn’t a sudden burst of joy or laughter, thrust upon me, and I didn’t win the lottery, ….far from it.

But it made me once again see that the Little Things, …those special little Moments in life, …are what really matter.

And what matters NOT, really, are those overbearing, Macro-political, economic, and cultural ideologies (and other crap like that), of which any attempt to change is like trying to turn the Titanic on a dime, to miss the many self-inflicted icebergs that ultimately await all such misguided, and self-perpetuating endeavors.

Ya see, it’s what we do on the smaller scale, …that makes the difference. And sometimes, if we recognize it soon enough, and correctly, it can change something immediately, …and for the better.

Last week, I was visiting someone close to me, who this past June had been “invited” by the State of Maryland to be their “guest” for the next 18 months.

It’s not the greatest place to go, but I care, so I do it, even when it’s difficult, and even when the thought of it changes my whole day,….and not for the better.

It was under just these circumstances, on that recent day, which I found myself in a plain, cold looking building, walking slower than usual, up a long, stark, unforgiving hallway, to a spot where I could have my weekly thirty minute visit, with that someone whom I care about.

I was trying to be positive, and was talking myself into being more “upbeat”, or at least enough so that my melancholy mood (mostly from just being there, at all, and from the circumstances which found me there), would not be too evident to the one I was about to visit.

Easier said, than done, and I was fighting it, …and not winning.

I was alone in that dismal corridor, with only a short distance more, to my destination: a group of doors, up on the right side, and behind them the small visitor cubicles, and some glass partitions, where people can “chat” through them, and have a semblance of a “visit”.

I was still losing the battle with my emotions, when suddenly, a visitors room door opened on the left side of the hallway, just a few steps up from me, and I was joined in that long, somber chamber by a young boy, maybe 7 or 8 years old, and his mother.

I was not surprised to see someone of his age there, as unfortunately, circumstances dictate that it happens, …and much too often.

But what set him apart from any others like him, was his nicely pressed dress shirt (even had it tucked in), and a very sharp tie over it, …and not a clip-on.

He also wore nice, cleaned and pressed jeans, and some sneakers that had wildly flashing blue lights on the bottoms, which were “activated” whenever he moved them.

Very cute, …very special, …and certainly nothing like the usual and accepted attire, seen on other visitors, in that forlorn and gloomy place.

He should have been very proud of himself, and feeling pretty good, having just finished a “visit” with his Dad, and with just three days to go before Christmas.

Not the case, however, …not even close.

He knew where he was, and what the deal was, and I could read his emotions, and nearly his thoughts, on that sad and heartbreaking little face.

He and his Mom were speaking clearly and directly with each other, even though they had both acknowledged my presence, still several feet from them.

She said: “See, I told you he looked good, honey? Aren’t you glad you came today?”

All I could think was: What a question for her to have to ask? And for him to try and answer?? Especially since it was the fault of neither of them, …that either of them had to.

The kid looked more than a little stunned, and like he was still not sure (if it had been such a good idea), and did the best he could, to please his mother.

He shook his head yes, and said that he was glad he wore the tie, and that he had practiced tying the knot, just for his Dad, for Christmas (with Mom’s help, I’m sure), and that it was good that his Dad had “liked” his flashing blue sneaks.

But his face belied his strong willed attempts at composure, and at not being too down, about what had just transpired. And it showed clearly, all that he could not understand, nor grasp, while somehow knowing he had to try.

It was the most sincerely, innocently sad face I have ever seen, at least in a situation that was supposed to be anything, but that.

Visiting your Dad in prison, three days before Christmas, from behind a glass wall, and not being able to touch him, when you’re 7 or 8, will do that to a kid.

This was not going to be a good day for this boy to remember, and not much of a Christmas either, it seemed. He was carrying far too much with him, and for too long, for that to happen.

They had now turned, after waving one last goodbye to the man behind the glass, and their path had brought them directly in front of me.

I had a couple of choices. One, …I could step aside, and continue on, in my own melancholy state, to the little room which awaited me, a handful of steps away.

(I mean, who could blame me, as I had my own problems here, and my own emotions to sort out.)

Or two, …say hello, and attempt to at least be friendly, or something other than what permeated that very “blue” hallway, the three of us were sharing.

I chose the latter, somehow, and probably, simply, not to be too rude. I was doing the best I could.

I put a big smile on my face (with a lot of effort), and said to that dispirited, but oh so adorable, towheaded youngster, …as happily as I could: “Wow! What a great tie! Did you tie that knot yourself?”

His face immediately lit up. He was obviously not expecting any words from me, and especially not about one of the things he was most proud of that day, and certainly not from some strange, random passerby, and not in that place.

He was understandably shy, but with his now growing smile, he shook his head up and down, very fast, …and very proudly. He even mustered a faint “Thank you”, …as someone had taught him well.

Now feeling my spirits lift, as well, I didn’t stop there. “And I LOVE your blue lights!! Where did you find those cool sneaks??!!”

Well, that went over so much better than I could ever have anticipated, making me so very glad that I had made such an effort, even as small as it seemed to me.

The kid and his Mom kept walking, past me now, but both had turned as they walked away, to let me know how much they appreciated my words,….each in their own way.

The boy was now beaming, and proudly looking down and fingering at his tie, and checking out his flashing kicks, while sneaking little looks back at me, momentarily forgetting about the other sorrows and sadnesses of his life, at least for the length of that hall.

His Mom’s face was beaming even moreso, as she quietly mouthed the words “Thank you” to me, two or three times, with hand touching her heart. Really. I wouldn’t make that up. Couldn’t anyway. It was too real.

Something, or someone, had done, …that which she could not, …at least for a moment.

I didn’t know exactly how to feel. I had just committed a random act of kindness, that I could just as easily have taken a pass on, and it made me feel like I had truly won that lottery.

And it had been so simple, …and so easy to do.

Tears of joy, felt very different, and better, than the other kind.

The kid felt better, at least for a bit, …his Mom felt much better, …and my visit, which I was thinking that I was not going to enjoy, now went totally better, too.

So easy, …this “Doing the Right Thing”.

And this doing good things for others (even if you don’t really feel like it, …nor if it doesn’t seem like they’ll be anything in it for you), …and not to mention, thinking just a little outside the box, …to do it.

Why do we make it so hard ??

It’s the Moments that matter. And the Little Things. What else is there?

Joe Facinoli

--Joe can be reached at: joefacinoli@gmail.com

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