People Are Strange When You’re a Stranger

By senior Sophie McLeod

A walk down and across the street is nothing profound; the faces of strangers linger but only as long as it takes for the next thought to replace them. Gaps in teeth and eyes that seem wide, mouths with smile lines and cheeks made up of ruddy skin, there is some wisdom, some kind of new world that exists in it all.

I used to walk with my head down, monitoring the cracks in the sidewalk and counting steps along the way to occupy the time. Only when I lifted my chin and opened my eyes did I come to understand the value of strangers, of people, of an explorative life.

The homeless man with a mess of bleach blond hair and a chronic pipe taught me about freedom, that there are fewer rules than we think and that there is no golden trophy at the end of the road for pleasing the world. That what feels good already exists somewhere in your mind, that this world is full of empty pleasures that are easily refused once you begin stomping in unison to the beat of your mind’s drum.

The elderly woman connected to a cloud of white curls taught me about believing in the world. That the revolution will not be televised, nor should it be. That true progress happens individually, within a soul rather than a box set Toshiba. That age is but a number, a fallacy created by others to give us control when all it really serves are our existential anxieties. The president is simply a man in a suit, formerly a little boy with monsters under his bed and invisible tears running down his cheeks. The world doesn’t change for us, we change our minds and maybe if we cross our fingers hard enough, the rest will follow.

The software engineer in Vegas with an accent as thick as summer air and a pair of black sunglasses to hide lingering sorrow in his eyes taught me about balance. That drugs come in more forms than tiny plastic baggies and ounces delivered by mail. That true love isn’t based on losing all control, that the fulfillment of life is often a long trek down a terrifying road of internal fear. The easy way out is never as easy as the billboards project; the easy road begins to hurt and your feet long for an incline to prove that they are truly moving. Feeling good was easy until it all began to sink inwards; the grittiness and truth of life could have served as a structure for it all.

Each stranger has a story, a piece of wisdom that can reach others. The Chapel Bell has taught me that every face you pass has the potential to be a valuable moment. When you approach each person you meet as though they are a teacher, you will enjoy a life of ever-expanding perspectives and excitement.