A Cinderella Story

Contributor:

Edmund Callipeaux - Artist, college instructor, lives in St. Louis Park.

10 December 2011, 10:00 p.m.
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On Wednesday, I was a witness to a scene that made me extremely happy.

I was sitting in my truck at a stoplight on 46^th and Portland in South Minneapolis. The usual view was abruptly altered as 3 high school-aged kids ran out into the crosswalk and in front of my truck. The 2 girls and 1 boy were chasing each other and dodging around as they made their way across the street. Their happiness and joyfulness was a striking contrast to the dull, grey landscape of Minnesota at this time of year.

They had their high school costumes on, with crazy socks and pants, and floppy jackets, with messed up hair and backpacks flying and falling to the ground as they laughed and giggled and pushed each other around.

Seeing these kids made me happy. I was happy that they were having fun! I smiled as I considered how refreshing it is to see people enjoying themselves during that sweet time before the weight of the world crushes their spirits and grinds their self-esteem into a fine powder.

They were laughing as if they didn’t have a care in the world!

As I considered their youthful dispositions in contrast to my jaded and prickly outlook, I realized that I was deriving joy simultaneously in 2 ways: first) from the scene of shear joy unfolding in front of my eyes, and second) the knowledge that misery in adult life awaits each of them.

I believe that the Germans refer to the second as Schadenfreude - - taking pleasure from the misfortune of others. Could my joy be doubled through my enthusiasm and happiness for their current and future situations? Is that right? Should that be right?

Once the light turned green, I pressed on the gas and drove through the intersection while the kids scurried across the street, heading east down 46th. As I passed them, I glanced over my shoulder and through the passenger window of the truck, and, by chance, I caught the glance of the young man in the group. We briefly made eye contact. Looking though his mop of hair, face covered in pimples, and barely able to walk due to his ecstatic laughter and being pushed as he stumbled, our eyes met, just for a split-second. And I have to tell you that I what I saw was the expression of complete bliss, happiness, and pure joy.

I have no doubt.

However, if I had had just a moment longer... if I could have stopped time for a split second, I might have been able to peer beyond the corneas of his eyes and into his pupils. If that had happened, I would have been able trace through his rods and cones and follow back through each optic nerve to the visual cortex at either side of his brain. Then, my friends, I would have had access to the poor bastard’s entire mind! I’d be able to explain to you just exactly why he was so happy…. Hell, I’d be able to write his entire life's story! But maneuvers like that are tricky even when both parties are standing still, let alone me in a truck, driving, and he, walking backwards with untied shoelaces and wearing a jacket that looked to have fit him perfectly about 3 years ago while being pushed by 2 other kids who matched the same description, yet belonged to the opposite gender.

As I drove down the street, picking up speed, I thought about how those kids had lifted me out of the dull state, or the doldrums of the day, and I began to feel rather positive, and as a result, somewhat content.

And so, when, 3 or 4 blocks later, a city bus had its blinker (or indicator light) on, I paused to let it merge into traffic ahead of me. A maneuver like this is uncharacteristic for me, I’m usually not so accommodating, but those kids had left me in a strange state of generosity and benevolence toward other drivers.

The bus pulled out in front of me and revealed on the rear of its chassis a local theatrical show bill for the play, Cinderella. Thinking of the Disney animated version of Cinderella, then my mind went to Bill Murray and his famous monolog regarding the Cinderella story of his golf play in the movie, Caddy Shack. In the same instant, I was reminded of Hunter S. Thompson’s cry to, “Remember Horatio Alger…” as the true rags to riches story; to not give up hope despite the odds, no matter how vast they are against.

Cinderella.

All of this has me thinking about chance, self-determination, and fate.

Heavy duty.

And those kids were having such a good time. – EC