People watching at the public office…
I was waiting to conclude some business, waiting for my number to be called.
I was aware of a man sitting near me, complaining. He was saying to the guards that he was diabetic and needed to get something from the vending machine downstairs for his blood sugar (and didn’t want to lose his place).
The guards seemed unsympathetic, and the man became loud and resentful, and I quietly hoped he wouldn’t get into trouble. I was checking my bag, and I found some glucose tablets, which I offered to the man.
He accepted them and I saw that he was an older, big man, fair skinned with light green eyes. His accent was familiar.
He thanked me profusely, then said loudly what a rare thing it was that people showed kindness to each other. I felt uncomfortable, and a black woman nearby said to him, "you’re a white man used to folks jumping when you holler ! It’s not like that for the rest of us.”
He actually stood up (I thought, “why did she say that ?") looked at her and said, "And sadder still that we don’t recognize our own people anymore ! I’m as black as you are."
He saw my ticket that had my last name and the number to be called, “Broussard ! I knew it ! Got any ‘Moutons' in your family ?"
"Several," I replied. He sat down, excited and we began basically comparing notes.
And so I was reunited with Claude, a second cousin. I think the last time we met I was seven, he was fifteen.
I was aware of a man sitting near me, complaining. He was saying to the guards that he was diabetic and needed to get something from the vending machine downstairs for his blood sugar (and didn’t want to lose his place).
The guards seemed unsympathetic, and the man became loud and resentful, and I quietly hoped he wouldn’t get into trouble. I was checking my bag, and I found some glucose tablets, which I offered to the man.
He accepted them and I saw that he was an older, big man, fair skinned with light green eyes. His accent was familiar.
He thanked me profusely, then said loudly what a rare thing it was that people showed kindness to each other. I felt uncomfortable, and a black woman nearby said to him, "you’re a white man used to folks jumping when you holler ! It’s not like that for the rest of us.”
He actually stood up (I thought, “why did she say that ?") looked at her and said, "And sadder still that we don’t recognize our own people anymore ! I’m as black as you are."
He saw my ticket that had my last name and the number to be called, “Broussard ! I knew it ! Got any ‘Moutons' in your family ?"
"Several," I replied. He sat down, excited and we began basically comparing notes.
And so I was reunited with Claude, a second cousin. I think the last time we met I was seven, he was fifteen.
