I had been at the table for two hours (premium seating on the upper level of the ranch-style public library) when she approached the table, asking if the seat catty-corner to mine was taken. She was an older white woman in her 60s, relatively well-dressed (with makeup, even!) but carrying two large purses, with a soiled carry-on roller in tow. Did she just have a lot of things she needed that day, or was she just one of the many quasi-transients in town who spent all of their time across the street under the shade of enormous banyans or inside this library, using the free internet?
She greeted me with a ‘thanks’ and ‘good morning’ and then asked me what the date was. I didn’t know the exact date, but I knew it was Saturday, and told her so. She got a bit huffy: “You don’t know the date?” as if judging me for sitting there with an iPad but not knowing the date. “It’s the 19th today, right?” she asked, and I thought it was that weird passive-aggressive style of question that felt like a trap: if you knew the date, why did you ask? I pulled out my phone to check and saw that it was actually the 18th, and told her so. “Thanks!” she replied gruffly, and began muttering under her breath Saturday the 18th Saturday the 18th Saturday the 18th as she put one of her bags on the table, unzipped it loudly, and very purposefully pulled out a pencil pouch, a legal pad and a pair of reading glasses. Apparently it was journal time and she wrote with a fury, the ruled lines a mere suggestion as she zig-zagged across the yellow sheets, writing large and loopy to burn through a half-dozen sheets. At the top of each, she wrote 4/18/2015. Off by 3 months, but who’s keeping track anyway? Maybe this summer is her spring.
I kept working, but she kept glancing over, and at times, it felt like a glare. Did she think I was pulling her leg by not providing her with the initial date? Was I a curiosity to her, the only Asian person I’ve seen for the past month? The library is a funny place and somehow, I’ve become a regular: the quiet guy in the hoodie who comes in early and leaves late, his table covered in highlighters and whiteout, constantly flipping back and forth a giant spiral-bound book. One young man I see daily (a bonafide beach bum) uses the place as a locker room, stashing a duffle under the microfiche reader. There is a Hispanic family who comes in often, a father with two sons. The younger one is about 5 years old, and logs in by himself, playing matching or driving games on the computer, while the other son looks to be about 16, and sits there next to his father at an adjacent station with headphones plugged, staring lax at the screen while his dad browses the computer, often on sites with no audio (that must be real boring). He got up once and I saw he had an impaired gait, his right leg crossing over his left with each step, with a droppped left shoulder and lax arm. His face was covered by the peachfuzz of an adolescent who hasn’t learned how to shave, and may never quite feel comfortable doing so.
Another man takes an entire four-top whenever he is here and pulls out an 80s-style briefcase (the kind that makes a loud noise when you pop the latches) which contains a portable accountant’s office: stapler, printing calculator, piles of golf pencils, a huge ledger, and stacks of manila file folders. The first time I saw him, he was looking something up in a huge leather-bound legal text with a magnifying glass, wearing a ripped white t-shirt, swim trunks and sandals, reading glasses perched on the end of his sunburnt nose. Strange, I thought, but then, who am I to judge? I too was wearing sandals, with shorts and a white v-neck Hanes undershirt. We both came to do work and be comfortable in our clothes. I came to study, and he came to do someone’s taxes.
I decided to live in this town because I loved the small scale and knew I could immerse myself in the community. I see a lot of folks who could use some help and I realized over the past two years that mental health underpins health in general, and I want to explore the possibilities. This is the first post of many; come share my journey.
aphysicalperson 