Materialism and Otis Redding
R had a soccer game so I took the girls to eat at Wendy’s. Just in case his game was canceled (since it’s raining and like 50 degrees on this June 5th). I placed my cell phone on the table so I could answer it and invite him to join us. I actually I placed my cell phone on the tray on the table and made a simple mental note to myself, “don’t throw away my cell phone.” Feeling satisfied that I had the situation under control, sure that I would not throw my cell away. Looking back it was clearly one of those moments that I should have listened to myself.
I left it there snug on top of the Wendy’s paper tray liner.
While the girls and I chowed down on our not so healthy, but very happy (for them) meal I happened to notice an older gentlemen in my peripheral vision. He was wearing a bike helmet, with his hoody pulled up on top of it. His helmet suggested to me that he was handicap/disabled. A few moments later I hear, “Hello” from behind me. Yes, me. The smelly, obviously not all their individual sought me out. It was as if he sensed my ability to be real with the mentally ill, like mentally ill folks can sense my connection to them. I was determined to treat him nicely. “Hello, how are you?” I returned. He came closer (his friend or case worker standing nearby). “I’m Robby,” he quickly stated. I asked, “Robby or Bobby?” He smiled, and came a little closer. He asked for a dollar. I told him I didn’t have one, then he open up his wallet, which was soft well used black leather men's billfold, with an empty license window pocket and very little inside at all actually. He pulled out his single, only, dollar and attempted to give it to me. I politely refused, but he was intent on giving me his only dollar after I just told him I didn't have any. I had to pull out my be nice to the mentally ill or they'll make a scene tactic. Upmost respect and plenty of warmth. I suggested he use it to buy something nice. He came closer, his hand reached out to mine with two large fingers extending my way. I return the offering, we shook, he my hand, and I his two fingers. “Nice to meet you, did you have a good dinner?” I said. His reply was a simple yes nod. He came very close, I thought he might try and hug me. He didn’t though instead his grin stretched wide and far across his face, and his head bent down slightly as one would see a puppy do. Oh dear, I was ready to move on, but Robby found a new best friend. All my tact and ability to deflect or deter from these sorts of unpredictable situations. Instead he suddenly changed his mind as I suggested he buy a frosty with that dollar. Robby stood there for a bit longer and he realized he could buy an ice-cream with his dollar. With that, off he went. S announced that she had to go potty. I was a little frazzled, and started cleaning off the table, piling the empty fry boxes, nugget boxes, and other fast food shit on top of the tray – into the trash it all went. As we drove away, I went to grab my phone. I suddenly I remember where I placed it. On the Wendy's tray, next to my fries. I realized I really truly threw my phone away. I couldn’t ask the workers to dig into the trash for it. Let me say this, “Lost phone no feel good.”
As I drove home, my stereo played one of my favorite songs, These Arms of Mine by Otis Redding. I felt depressed, and the music became my ally. Then it hit me, I was sulking about my cell phone and These Arms of Mine became the lyrics to support my heartache, my I lost my cell phone ridiculousness. I switched the stereo off quickly, least the song be forever associated with materialism.
