Seeing Through Different Eyes

By Dianna Doles Petry

West Virginia, in fact the entire United States, has always seemed majestic to me.  People from all over the world settled here, many of them starting off with nothing more than the clothes they were wearing, a strong back, and hands willing to work at anything to make a living.  The land itself is beautiful, rich, restful, and abundant.  During the Great Depression, as I've been told by the older generation, neighbors looked after each other.  Italians, Germans, Native Americans, African-Americans, and many others all worked side by side, dreamed the same dreams of prosperity, and breathed the same air. 

So it is no wonder that something I encountered today really struck me like a slap across the face.  I have jumped ahead of myself but will now attempt to explain my need to pen my thoughts this evening.

I got a call this morning from an old friend who was in town for a few days visiting her family.  She wanted to get together for lunch. I was thrilled to hear from her and thought it would be a day to share our thoughts and catch up on our lives.  I doubt there is much to tell about my life that she would be interested in since I am basically a middle-aged woman taking care of home and hearth, but I knew she would have much to share about her trips, her job in Washington, D.C., and her family who always seems to excel at everything they do.

We met at an upscale restaurant that reminded me of an outdoor café in Europe.  Everything sparkled, mirror lined walls were brilliant, and the waitresses were matronly and patient.  I was dressed in casual black slacks and a blindingly white blouse that seemed far too low key compared to the other patrons who were dressed in business suits and designer fashions.  I seldom feel ill at ease anywhere but today I felt as if I was in a land of fantasy and should be waking up just any minute.

Then, as we left the restaurant, I felt even worse.  Standing on the street almost directly in front of the entrance to the restaurant was a man dressed in worn out jeans.  His bearded face looked tired and was streaked with lines of gray.  He held a little boy by one hand and carried a toddler aged child on the other arm.  Both children had well brushed hair and the pitiful clothes they were wearing were clean and neat even if they were tattered and had patches that had been sewn over other patches.  Both children looked toward us and I nearly felt sick to my stomach as I thought of the seventeen dollar salad I had ordered a short while ago to impress my friend.  

I’ve heard it said that pleasure softens the heart but I don't think the lunch in a swanky restaurant had anything to do with the emotion that ran through me as I looked at those children and saw the little boy smile at me.  I wanted to reach out to him and I felt ashamed that I had just been inside such elaborate surroundings wasting hard earned money to feel equal to someone I talk to only every few years. 

I walked closer to the man and his children and spoke to them, commenting on the little boy’s beautiful green eyes.  My old friend simply walked ahead on the sidewalk and waited impatiently for me to catch up.  She went so far as to raise her arm into the air in front of her chest and point to her fancy wrist watch trimmed with diamonds, or at least what was supposed to be diamonds.  I took my time talking to the children and their father smiled at me as if it was something that didn't happen very often.  I reached into my purse and pulled out what remaining cash I had left.  It was a few one dollar bills and maybe a five but I didn't bother to count it, I simply extended my hand and asked the father to take it as a favor to me. 

“A favor?” He asked, with a look of prideful disdain on his face. 

“Yes, sir,” I answered him, “You see, I have a terrible case of empty nest syndrome going on and it would make me feel so much better to think these children were going to be smiling this afternoon because of something I did.  It always gives me a lot of pleasure to make children happy and I just don't have any young ones to spend time with anymore.

He jokingly replied, “Well, you're welcome to these but I need them back before they turn thirteen.  I hear that they turn into pumpkins at that point and I love pumpkin pie.”  He smiled and I knew he was no longer offended at my offer.  I handed him the money and walked toward my friend, still waiting with her frowning face and impatient stance.  I fought the urge to look back as I walked, and it was a hard fight.

Then I was slapped, hard across the face, with the weight of her words.  “Dear God, you would think they would have some kind of security or something to keep that kind of people away from the entrance to the restaurant.  I'm sure that can't be good for business; why people are going to think they are panhandling and they probably are!”

I looked back at the father and his children, now smiling and laughing as they strolled out of my eyesight.  I remembered my own days of dealing with a sick infant and driving into the city for doctor’s appointments with barely enough gasoline in the tank to make the trip and not an extra cent for a soft drink.  I thought back to the days of making sure I had enough cash to pick up my daughter’s medication and enough food for her to eat until payday before I would eat so much as a peanut butter sandwich.  I felt anger swell within my chest and I realized I didn’t know the woman I had referred to as my friend only a while ago.  It is difficult to understand people, even the people you think you know. 

Tomorrow morning when I look into my mirror, I will know I am looking at a real person.  I will be face to face with a woman who has faced trials and triumphs, sorrow and joy, success and failure.  I don’t need expensive clothes, outlandish tales or swanky restaurants to make me feel complete.  I know now, without a shadow of a doubt, I have arrived exactly on time at exactly the right place.  I am equal to every other human being, not one fraction of an inch above or below, but equal, as we all should be.

I know that I’ll probably never see my old friend again but then, the old friend I knew and loved is already gone and in her place is someone still looking for a perfect world.  How boring that would be!  I’ll just continue on in my world filled with imperfection and challenge, after all, it feels comfortable to me.