Agar is the stuff used in labs to grow things on, last time I had any input from a biology type. Combine that with my own, personal revelation that I figure the world is my Petri dish for conducting astrological experiments with, and there you have it. Add to this dish, my fundamental feeling that folks are not as nice as they should be, and little compassion and kindness can go a long way in making the everyday world a better place…. think: what can I do, today, right now, to help someone out?
My parents have this thing, as my departure time draws closer, they suddenly have a host of technical questions. This week’s Libra scope couldn’t be more accurate. So, it seems, I spent an inordinate amount of my afternoon, shuttling from one parent’s computer to the other one, answering questions. Dynamics I may never understand: their respective machines are in different corners of the house – as far apart as possible.
My Virgo friend dropped me at the Dallas airport, and I breezed right through, checked in on time, and watched with curiosity as a young man – his name tag didn’t have a name, it just read, “I am blind and deaf” – with his handler, not getting frustrated, just trying to take care of certain obligations, like asking the guy the security questions. He answered in sign language, but it wasn’t conventional sign language, a little east of here is the Texas School for the Deaf. I may not “speak” American Sign Language, but I can recognize it, and a few words, or gestures, I suppose.
This young man was forced to feel his companion’s words. Bad scene. Back to the question for the day, what can I do to help someone out? “Can I help?” Three simple words. Not motivated by greed, avarice, or even some kind of a lower calling, I just felt like being kind. Do something to help. I grabbed a cup of coffee, he wanted root beer, but settled for Dr. Pepper, and I engaged him and his companion in conversation. The inevitable question came up, the “Deaf dumb and blind kid” [sure plays a mean pinball> was Sagittarius, and his friend guiding him was Gemini. “Gemini?” I laughed, “you can talk to both of us at once.”
“He’s had a busy weekend, he drove my husbands boat,” she was telling me. We laughed at a few things, then I volunteered to assist him in going to the bathroom. What I learned: he didn’t need much help at all, direct him to the stall, he took care of himself, direct him the sink, he does pretty good all by himself. “He lives by himself; he’s self-sufficient; he’s got a job.” I was very impressed.
Here’s a guy who lives in a world devoid of music that I hear, and he can see none of the stuff I see, nor read the text I read. I offered him the window seat on the plane, and then proceeded to tell him what he was missing, but somehow, I don’t think he missed a thing. I can now sign “plane taking off” and “plane landing” plus, unnecessary for this trip, “turbulence.” Then there’s my new name, a special symbol, basically a letter K, held up the chest.
He got peanuts, and opened the package himself, fed himself, had some more Dr. Pepper, smiled, laughed at one joke I told, and seemed to be the most agreeable lad. One clear, blue eye of the most amazing color, the other was shut. Smooth, light brown skin, just a stellar lad to spend an afternoon with. Recalling some of the conversation with the companion, friend, handler, hell, I don’t know what she was, the person he showed up with, she said he had a good sense of humor. Like I said, he laughed at one joke, and I liked that. Of course, it could be said that the joke feel on deaf ears, but you know, it’s not all bad. I think it’s the delivery.
My concern was about his safety. As it turned out, there was a very nice woman waiting for him at the gate; my biggest fear was that there would be no one there until we got past the security cordon. Worried about whether or not it was the right person? She greeted him, and he seemed to sense her presence, even before they started signing to each other. The name for this journal is “Xenon,” and that’s from a pinball game I used to own, some years back. I’ll bet that kid could smoke me on Xenon.
But back to the agar. That Petri dish of life – to board an airplane, a valid picture ID is required, like Texas Driver’s License, or one of the state issued ID cards that looks like TDL. His birthday? From what I can tell, he was born just a few days apart from [Shelton> Hank Williams III.
