Blind Men on the Moon, Buoys in the Sea

"You look like a blind man walking around on the moon!" That was how Mom scolded John and me as we played pool when we were younger. He or I would take a shot and walk away with our cues still held in a lateral, shooting position. And she'd tell us to hold the cue straight up and down after comparing us to the visually impared in a gravity-free environment.

I always liked the analogy. Imagine! A blind man walking on the moon! Bobbing like a buoy, just like how astronauts do in videos. Slowly trying to detect the absence of nothingness around him. And the analogy works outside of pool too!

Like when I got accepted to college. I was bobbing along, working in a craft store. I didn't want to go to college. I didn't even apply. Bob. Bob. Bob. Then I came home from a day shift, and my Mom said the U of I called and wanted to give me a scholarship. All I had to do was send in the scholarship application and do an interview. Simple enough! And completely out of nowhere! Here I was, bobbin' around, not looking for anything. Not seeing anything heading my way, and there it was: a small 4-year scholarship, but free money nonetheless.

It applies to things that aren't so pleasant too. For example, I was bobbing along the weekend before Saint Patty's Day. A group of kids and I were at the South Side Parade. Drinking. Bobbing. Oblivious to the world. Then, that night, I get the call that Nana's dying. Just like that! No major warning!

When I talk about this, it's hard for others to understand how a 90-year-old woman's death can shock me. It does seem irrational to think that a person, of any age, is perpetual--especially a 90-year-old one. But she was youthful to the point that it was easy to forget about mortality. She went on a senior citizen's bus a couple times a week and walked around a mall. She never had a major heart attack or stroke or anything like that. She told jokes. She chatted on the phone, and she remembered everything--except how to program her VCR, but she couldn't do that when she was 75, neither.

We were all bobbing along, blind men on the moon. Lazily holding out white canes, never expecting to hit an object. Just like that. Seemingly out of nowhere. You're left to consider: "If I can run into something on the moon once, surely I'll always be in danger of finding something again later." But you can't persist, vigilantly looking and remaining prepared against what you cannot see.

When you're on the moon, you encounter problems at irregular intervals. Soon your guard is down. And you're apathetically bobbing along again. Like a buoy in the sea.