Birds of a Feather

Yesterday I assisted in a photo shoot for local musician Matthew Carefully by holding a balloon and laying down on the grass of Washington Park under a crisp blue sky while a pretty little thing next to me laughed at all my lame jokes. I am, truly, a martyr for art, and you can see me (or my feet anyway) on the cover of this coming Thursday’s Metroland.

A duck doing his thing. (click for full image)

But what I really want to talk about is taking an afternoon for myself, by myself. Which is exactly what I did prior to the photo shoot.

I actually don’t mind my job all that much, but I have to deal with people all day long. I’d say about 95% of the interactions are pleasant, but even on days when they’re all positive I get more than my fill of human interaction; often to the point of overflow.

Not that I’m all Daniel Plainview about people; in fact I’m the furthest thing from anti-social. Sometimes, though, I get burned out on human interaction. I get burned out on all the chatter, the discussions, the text messages and Twitter @replies and status updates and direct messages and phone calls and what have you.

When those times come, I need to make the time for myself where I just completely unplug and do what I did yesterday after work: sit down, in silence, and watch the ducks at Washington Park. It’s something I haven’t done in a long time, and I’m glad I did it.

I love ducks, and I love their quacks. There’s just something about a quack; you can’t do it yourself without smiling. Seriously, try it. Even if you’re able to, something doesn’t seem right about quacking without cracking a smile. I could’ve gone for an easy pun there, and I didn’t. You’re welcome.

I sprawled my arms outwards on the bench and observed them swimming, preening, and waddling around the shore. On the bench directly to my right, a woman just a couple years younger than I was caught my eye. She was with a developmentally disabled girl, though I don’t know if her supervisory role was in the way of family or professional.

Regardless, there the three of us were, from three wildly different mindsets, all enjoying the company of these wonderful quacking ducks.

The woman tried to get the little girl to leave with her, but the little girl wasn’t having it. She was playing a game of stubborn mule; refusing to get up from the bench. I sat and observed with a smile on my face. I think the woman may have thought I was taking amusement out of the situation. Even though she didn’t seem to mind, the truth is that I really wasn’t. I mean, I partially was, but the smile really came from my marveling at her ability to deal with this child with an astounding level of emotional maturity.

"...quack. Ha! H.W., you see, my boy? He's right! By God, he's right. It's impossible!"

Most people in this situation would have pulled, or tugged, or yelled. Not her; she used simple reverse psychology and talked on a level the kid understood. It took slightly longer, but the child eventually came along and did so in a much more peaceful manner than if she had used any physical force, threats, or condemnations.

At one point we had a brief exchange, but I stopped myself. This isn’t what I came for. I didn’t sit down to watch the ducks and meet people, I came to watch the ducks and take a break from people.

In the end, though, I ended up observing and interacting with someone who had once again renewed my faith, optimism and enthusiasm about the potential of people. People like her let me know that while it’s okay to take a break from other people, I shouldn’t do so too long. Because a lot of them are great.

Afterwards, I met up with the people for the photo shoot, and there were some great and kind minds in the bunch. In other words, the sort of people you really want to be around. Not a negative word, action, or remark was made. Just a beautiful day, with beautiful people and beautiful balloons. A day I have so desperately needed of late.

The Daniel Plainviews of the world can have their millions and their oil and their awesome moustaches. Me, I’ll get by just fine with an appreciation of ducks that occasionally renews my faith in humanity.