The other day, I went out to a nearby restaurant for
lunch. I perused the dining area,
looking for a table away from others, particularly any parties who might be
noisy. But I also needed good lighting,
as I planned on revising a chapter of my novel while I ate. I finally settled on a table with good
overhead lighting, set down my food, and dug out my notebook.
One table away sat a young man and his two daughters, enjoying
their pasta and drinks. They chatted
easily, and for the most part, quietly.
When their voices threatened to rise, he would gently hush them, and
then remind them that they were in a restaurant, and must keep their voices
down. At one point he looked over at me
and said, “I’m sorry if we’re a little noisy today.”
Going out to a restaurant can break the routine, and get me
working again when I might otherwise get distracted with other tasks, or decide
that I simply need a break. But this
tactic will backfire if the restaurant is noisy, or if my mind decides to
follow a nearby conversation instead of concentrating on my prose. Most annoying of all is parents who let their
children yell or scream, and expect others to tolerate such unnecessary
outbursts. Often, these parents seem so
professional and refined. They dress
well, wear convention attire, and act in all other ways like respectable
members of society. Yet they think
nothing of invading the airspace (and therefore the thoughts and concentration)
of others.
With his shaved head, tattoos, and numerous earrings, this young man hardly projected an image of
refinement. But due to his efforts, his
girls’ voices had not disturbed my concentration. I told him not to worry, and observed that
his girls seemed to be enjoying themselves.
We chatted for a few minutes, and he explained that this was one of
their favorite places to eat. Then I returned
my attention to my work, and he to his girls.
When his girls had finished eating, he loaded them into his
double stroller, and in quiet, lilting tones reminded them of the errands
ahead. As he left the dining area, it
struck me how, while others might not judge him respectable, he had been
respectful and considerate of others. I,
for one, was grateful to him for that.
While one’s eye is automatically drawn to the shiny, golden
robot C-3PO in “Star Wars,” one quickly learns how bossy and
dismissive he is of his friend R2-D2. Worse, he seems to worry all the time, and
foresees only the worst eventuality of any particular event. It would be easy to dismiss his role in the
film as comic relief, but C-3PO emerges as a loyal friend at the end of the film. After R2-D2 suffers significant
injury, C-3PO pleads with the droid technicians, “Sir, if any of my circuits or
gears will help, I’ll gladly donate them!”
This, from one who had earlier abandoned his friend in the desert, and
later, after they had reunited, told him, “No, I don’t like you either.”
People are always more than they appear. Sometimes, if we give them a chance, they
will surprise us. In the aftermath of
the recent election, many worry about those who will soon take office, and how
they will be affected not only by new administrations, but also by the
implementation of the propositions that won.
I decided to write this post because I want to remember this young man,
whom many might have dismissed because of his appearance. Instead of declaring my unwillingness to
follow our new leaders, or deciding to frustrate their efforts and work to overturn
any laws they enact, I also want to remember C-3PO’s example. He may not be the wisest, or the most
respectable person in the Star Wars universe, but his words, at least in that
one moment, inspire me.
“Sir, if any of my circuits or gears will help, I’ll gladly
donate them.”
Dragon Dave
No comments:
Post a Comment