Of stranger (RR 27)

Her words wandered though she was trying to be formal. I know her well enough to know she was fighting back her feelings.

“When they draw these caricatures, I don’t see it as a negative. Someone has taken the time to look at my face, to study it and pull out the nuances of it. That the result is ugly is immaterial. It’s a rendering. It’s how I am seen by this person. It’s one artist drawing another. I am important enough to be rendered by another. I am important enough to have that rendering printed in a magazine. It would be sadder if I were completely ignored.”

She didn’t look at me while she was saying this. Her eyes were looking down and to the left. If they had been focused, they would have been staring at crumbs from the croissant on the corner of the table. But, they weren’t. Her mind was focused enough to compensate for her eyes.

She read articles about Neil Young. She wanted to be as strong as he and let everything roll off her back. But, she couldn’t do what he did. She couldn’t go on tour and get booed every night while road testing Greendale. On stage, she had a habit of politely whispering ‘Thank you’ very quickly after every song as if she was in disbelief that we weren’t mad at her yet.

I said the only thing I could think of, “What’s wrong with letting it hurt your feelings? It’s natural. I would be hurt too.” Truth told, I don’t know if it would hurt. I’ve never had anyone take the time to render me. But, I can imagine being hurt. They picked on things of which she was already self conscious and gave her new things of which to be aware.

Was her neck that long? Was her posture so bad? Did her nose hook so much? Was her face so round? Did her teeth separate that much? Is this how everyone saw her?