The Eyes Have It

$.25

What is it about not looking at each other in this town?

I mean, in general: We get on an elevator and divert our eyes from any others we might meet. We pass each other in countless office hallways and never say a word. Did someone somewhere deem long ago that this was somehow the professional thing to do?

I wonder.
It’s bad enough in my own skyscraper office building (well, honestly, there are no skyscrapers in Washington, DC, but you get the idea), but when it comes to passing people on the street – especially in Truxton Circle – it has been elevated to an art.

Is it because I’m white? Because I’m a stranger? An interloper?

On my run today, as in many other days previously, I encountered people. Mostly regular neighborhood folks. A lady carrying clean laundry from her car to her home, a wild-eyed man who looked like he was strung out on something. At this time of year, it’s mostly kids out of school for the summer and wandering about. But the thing they all have in common is that none of them look at me. Well, that’s not quite true. They all see me from a distance, but as I approach them, none even acknowledge me.

You might think this is just the way of things, but to me, it makes me wonder. It frustrates me. Why? Have I hit on a larger social concept?

Because when a person diverts his eyes, it makes it extremely difficult to engage him, even to say a brief “hello,” and move on.

As a stranger in this strange land, I’m not looking to carry on an in-depth conversation about the meaning of life. I just believe that saying hello is the first step in getting to know another person, to tell them they mean something to you, to make an acquaintance.

When a person passes me without acknowledgement, it makes me feel like I’m not accepted, not wanted, and generally regarded with derision. And, maybe in this instance, that’s exactly the message being communicated to me. I am an intruder of sorts. I don’t live in this neighborhood, so why should I be here? Is it me, or is it what I represent? Is it just my presence that is so distasteful to the locals?

Just as I’m getting more and more frustrated, paying more attention to the fact that I’m not being acknowledged than to my run, I find myself approaching an elderly black man haphazardly carrying a cigarette. I bring myself once more to look up and into his eyes, hoping to catch even a brief glance from him. And, to my amazement, he looks up, meets my gaze, and says, “Hello,” with a near-imperceptible nod.

It was as if I were a child getting the Christmas gift I’d most desperately wanted for years.

I smiled – probably a little too widely – said, “Hello,” and was on my way. Just like that.

It was over in less than a second, but the interaction was moving, and made all the difference in the world. I was euphoric. I’d been accepted. I was important enough to be acknowledged. I was somebody.

Most of all, I was grateful.

Bryan

P.S. Just a note to say that I found a quarter today. Amazing and rare, like basic human kindness.