“I feel
like a ghost haunting my own childhood.”
The
man sitting at the library computer at first didn’t realize the comment had
been aimed sideways at him. The speaker
tried a different tactic and faced his now-listener directly.
“Don’t
you ever feel that way about your life?”
The
next two seconds spanned an infinity for the listener, whose reactions ran the
gamut of panic, anger, uncertainty as to what answer, if any, would not be
stupid, rude, and/or wrath-inducing, and panic again. The result: “Uh… sure?”
That
was enough: “I mean, really, like, we work through school, man, and, like,
college, and, like, everyone expects you to be successful and rule the world,
and here I am, still living in my parents’ basement. Don’t you think the government and this country’s gone down the
toilet since World War II?”
The
listener realized the subject had abruptly changed from the futility of youth
to politics. “Uh… sure?”
“I
mean, you had the Cold War, right, and Korea then, and Korea now, the
Middle East for, like, ever, recessions, Darfur, the IRA, and the rich
getting richer. What’s the point of it
all, man?” He waited for The Answer.
The
listener saw some sympathetic glances shot his way. Sympathetic, useless glances.
“Uh… nothing? I mean, well, just… try… to do the right thing.”
“Yeah,
but the CIA, man! I’m telling you, it
all goes back to World War II! And then
the Soviets – ”
A
stroke of genius: “Bees.”
“Huh?”
“The
honeybees are dying everywhere. No one
knows why.” It was pretty much known
why. “The honeybees are us.”
“Ohhh….”
“Gotta
go.” He got up and left. A librarian stopped him on the way out.
“I
was about to ask if you needed help – he tends to trap anyone who listens.”
“I’m
fine, thanks. He may need help,
though.”
“I’ll
speak to his mother again; she’s hoping he’ll grow out of it by the time he
turns 7.”
