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January 18, 2001 - He Looks Demented
Welcome to 2TheHeart's Funny Friday!
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"Misquotations are the only quotations that are never misquoted."
~~Hesketh Pearson~~
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Welcome to our new members! To submit your own funny stories, email Editor@2theheart.com
Today's story is a little different for Funny Friday. Usually we just stick with funny, but you'll find this story has a touching twist to it.
He Looks Demented
Ronnie Bray
Sitting in the office in the Knoxville, Tennessee Institute of religion during the Christmas break, it was unusual for the telephone to ring, so, when it did, I asked myself the timeless question: "Who can it be?" I never found out. A lady's voice announced "this is a strange call but
there's a man on the corner outside your building and he looks demented."
She didn't say, and I didn't ask, whether people outside buildings were the responsibility of people inside the buildings outside of which they were standing, looking demented or not. I suppose it would be worth asking, "What case can be made for demented looking persons being the responsibility of those who see them first?"
If people who look demented are the responsibility of the primary sighter, is that responsibility transferable to the person inside the building outside of which the demented looking person is standing and, if so, can said responsibility be transferred by a telephone call. If so, is telephone transference of demented looking persons standing outside someone' else's building efficacious if you the name of the primary sighter is not revealed?
Can an anonymous initial observer anonymously and with malice aforethought transfer the responsibility of said demented looking person to a person inside a building outside of which the person reported as being demented looking or in any other way disposed to be either less or more than normal in aspect including in that category sub-normal, abnormal, and hyper-normal or any combination of all three but not limited to those categories and if so can it be done unilaterally and without the express or implied consent of the person inside the building
outside of which the demented or as otherwise explained looking person is said to be (for at this point the existence or not of said person is purely hearsay) standing? You see - it is not as easy as it sounds.
The very fact that we are discussing it at all is evidence that people do not want to take responsibility for people anywhere who look demented or otherwise, in some unspecified and vague way, strange. And why not? Because most demented looking people are nuisances. They are hard to understand if and when they speak, they can be frightening, that is, people can be frightened of them, and they waste our valuable time. Speaking of time, and we are now, how much time does a demented looking or an actually demented person really take. I mean, has any one done any studies on that sort of thing?
And another thing, what's wrong with looking demented or even being demented, come to that? Demented people don't choose to look demented and even demented looking people probably don't choose to look that way. It's not as if they chose it from a lifestyle catalogue, is it? Have a heart!
I had an idea who it might be. Sometimes when Gay and I are leaving the Institute for the day we meet an old man standing on the corner of Clinch and Sixteenth who looks a little strange. Notice that I didn't say demented. The first time we saw him we thought he was lost, so I
guess we had him down as being lost looking, but it did not occur to me then that he might be demented. He smiled when we walked towards him and showed us his neglected teeth. He is an older gentleman dressed, shall we say, not well, but warmly.
As we walked towards him that first time, he held out a small card. I took it from him to read. I had seen people with small cards before that they give to strangers to read. It usually says that the bearer is deaf, and selling badges to make a living. Of course, the bearer of such a card may be neither unable to hear or speak but if they and their potential customers can work on the basis of them being, unable to hear or speak it cuts down time and consciences can be salved for a dollar or two without any uncomfortable feelings.
I have collected a smallish supply of badges from these sources, but this card was different. I took it from his hand to read it. It was a bus pass. He retrieved the card from me in a way that suggested he was not demented; rather he knew exactly what he was doing. When I realized
that he was waiting for a bus, he nodded his head vigorously in agreement, smiling broadly, apparently delighted that someone understood him.
Each time we meet, we exchange pleasantries, although so far I have never understood a word he has said. When I took the telephone call from the transfer lady, I knew it was time to check and see if my suspicion was right and if the gentleman was alright. I wandered out
into the crisp coldness of the early January day and found my friend. He waved his card at me and spoke in an unintelligible language.
I listened hard. It sounded something like an Eastern European accent but his words were so indistinct that I could not be at all sure. Did he look Polish, I asked myself. He could have been but after that business with the monkey at Hartlepool it is best not to be too hasty in
forming judgement.
So, I spoke to him in a language that everyone understands: I took his hand, shook it hard and, smiling into his eyes, wished him a Happy New Year. His nodding head told me that my message had been received. We passed a few more sentences between us with me trying to respond appropriately so as to make him feel that we were having a meaningful conversation even though it was not words that was making the connection, but our two hearts.
He waved his Bus Pass up Clinch Avenue and I assured him that his regular bus would be along in a few minutes. His faced smiled "Thank you" and I took his hand again, to wish him Happy New Year again as I turned to go back inside.
In three or less steps, I had pondered whether 'she', the primary sighter in her citadel somewhere across the road, was watching. Would she follow my example some day and go and meet the demented looking man? I turned just before the steps to the Institute, waved, and shouted at him, "Good to see you again." He waved back and said gruffly but distinctly the only utterance of his I have ever understood: "Good to see you too!"
With an abundance of seasonal spirit, I mounted the steps and went through the big front door feeling that I had moved up a step in my relationship with my bus stop friend. I couldn't help wondering what he had taken from our encounter. Was it more than I had taken? How could
it be? My heart was overflowing! I hoped that he had felt the strength of friendship that asked nothing but a moment of time, a smile, a handclasp, and a soft word, but given much more in return.
And the lady perched in her apartment, perhaps watching through the window, seeing but not feeling, concerned but afraid, perhaps constrained by cultural values that separated her from strange looking men. Who knows? But, of the three, she was the loser.
She didn't get to feel the gentle warmth of his hand, look into his pale blue eyes and know his humanity, see the lines etched into a face that told his special sadness, whatever it was, or hear his voice raised in language that took on exceptional meaning, "Good to see you too!"
Nor did she get to feel as exalted as I did when his words funnelled through my grateful ears on their way straight into my humbled and enchanted heart.
Copyright © January 2001
Ronnie Bray
Quill@Prodigy.net
To read more of Ronnie's writings, visit his page on 2TheHeart:
http://www.2theheart.com/author_ronnie_bray/, or visit his Website:
http://pages.prodigy.net/quill/
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The Letter Box:
Susan,
I rarely disagree with you but I am this time. I think the first Funny Friday by-line was the correct one. You are very good at writing funny stories. I think the truth is that you are a lot like me; you hesitate to write them because you let everyone know the crazy things that happen to you. You did an excellent job with the story and I could just see your face when you discovered what you really had on your floor. I bet you were wishing it would jump up and attack you. I am sure you have more funny stuff in your past. We are all waiting for you to 'fess up. We have cried with you through so many of your stories. It is fun to laugh with you too. ~Maxine Wright, GA
Susan, (Re: "Playing Possum")
That was tooo funny!!!! Sounds like something I would do!
~Peggy R.
You're wrong, Susan.........You're VERY good at writing funny stories. I cracked up! Sounds sooooo much like something I'd do! It's so nice to meet other cowards! Hello friend! hehe
Be blessed,
Sue
Susan,
That does it....your "Playing Possum" story just reminded me of something I've been meaning to suggest to you for several months now: Compile all of your stories into book form, find a reputable publisher, and I just know it will sell like hot cake! I'll order a dozen copies ahead of time! As the Nike commercial states, "Just do it!" The possum/ferret incident still has me laughing as I think about it, and I read it almost an hour ago! Your quick wit is delightfully contagious.
Love,
Sandi
Susan,
That was GREAT! Girl, you have a such a way with words....I could picture the whole thing and you made me laugh out loud with your descriptions.....When I grow up I want to write like you. :-)
xoAnne
This is wonderful Susan. I laughed till I cried ..It reminded me of a time a bat fly in and all I had to catch it with was two TV trays..I had goose bumps on goose bumps so I know how you felt.......Becky
Susan;
Well you made my Friday Funny! Knowing you as well as I do, I can share in Maya's laughter seeing you in fright with ski gloves on, and a broom in hand. If it had been a real "critter", you probably would have scared it just as much. Remember, if you go into the garage and see a rope lying onthe floor, it's just a rope, not a SNAKE...or is it? Better keep the skigloves and broom handy just in case. Thanks for the best way I know to start off a Funny Friday.
~GayAnn
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"Adolescence is a period of rapid changes. Between the ages of 12 and 17, for example, a parent ages as much as 20 years."
- Anonymous
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Submit your funny stories to: Editor@2theheart.com
Feel free to pass this on to your friends!
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