One of the reasons I love going to study at Starbucks, besides not feeling cooped up in my own house, is that you get to people watch. I love coming up with my own stories about where people are going, who they are meeting, what they are doing. You get to see people you might never have seen, or even known existed. Every time you go (even if it’s to the same place) you always see different people, and see different stories unfolding before your eyes.
Today was no exception. I decided that since I got out of class really early today, I’d get some homework done before heading home. I ordered my chai, and settled in for the long haul… I knew I was going to be there for several hours. I’d read a little bit, watch a few people, coming and going, passing by, getting on and off the buses. I was reading some articles I was given to read for one of my classes. The assignment was to read these articles, then write a one-page response to each. When I got to the last one, all I remember thinking is ‘I’m glad this one is short…’ It was an excerpt from a book called ‘Occam’s Razor.’ It was a short four-page excerpt about the low point in W. Eugene Smith’s life, where he thought he had nothing left to live for, no love, no work, solely emptiness.
As I about halfway through reading the article, the man sitting at the table next to me leaned over and said, ‘Trying to get back into studying, huh? I’m sure the first few weeks of the semester are the hardest.’ I looked over to see a man drinking a cup of coffee wearing very thick glasses covered up with a large pair of sunglasses. We began talking, and I came to learn a little bit about this man. Years ago, he was a wealthy businessman, high on life. Though he has very little recollection of what actually happened, he was told that he had just purchased a new car and was taking it for a spin when he was hit by a train traveling about 70mph. He was in a coma for several months, and declared 100% brain dead. He was said to have a very slim chance of ever waking up, and if he did, he would be considered ‘retarded.’ He continued to tell me about his story and how when he did wake up, not only did he have just slight brain damage, he remembered his entire family. The worst, physically, was that he is now considered legally blind, though he can still see enough to get around most of the time. Through support and a lot of hard work, he is now living on his own. Through the experience, he was able to find God, and now is working in a church where he says he feels richly blessed. We talked for a few more minutes and then he was on his way.
After he left, I finished reading the article about Smith, and began writing my response. The following is from my response:
After reading the article of W. Eugene Smith, I felt inspired and oddly hopeful, which I’m sure was, in all actuality, the subject of the segment. To realize that everyone has a low point, including those who we admire for great works. I, as well, suffered a low point, although mine came much earlier in my lifetime than Smith’s. To think back on it now makes me grateful, more appreciative of my life, what I’ve been given. To know your future is impossible. To hope in your future is necessary. I’m often reminded of the things I would have missed out on, the greatness to which I aspire. Though I may never create an award winning story or image, it will not stop me from trying, reaching for my highest goals.
It seems to me as though Smith, though almost unwilling to say it aloud, had even a mustard seed of hope, or faith, if you will, for his future. Though he said he had nothing left, no love, no work, he hung on…for something. I believe he had hope; something, someone would come along to remind him why living was worth the effort.
I believe Smith used this hope to later tell his Minimata story. Without having had to cling to his last hope, to the unknown, he would not have been able to relate to the people of Japan; he would not have kept going at the first sign of trouble from the ‘company goons.’ Because he persevered through a dark time in his life, he, perhaps, felt a new desire, or a need to persevere through anything; to make their story known to the world.
As I finished writing my response, my thoughts went back to the man I had been talking with earlier. Was his life the same way? Did he look at his accident as his low point; where even though he and everyone around him thought his life was done, his true greatness was yet to come. Only now does he really feel that he is making a difference in other’s lives. He spoke of his ‘former life’ as though it doesn’t exist anymore. He told me that only now is he really living. I don’t think it was a conicidence that I was reading this article at the exact moment this man decided to talk to me. He spoke about how God used the accident to get his attention, to let him know he was living a worldly life of selfishness. Perhaps this was a small wake up call? Needless to say, I think I’ll continue to study at Starbucks.
