A Fragile Thing

Today is like any other ordinary day in Yorkton. It's the middle of the week. As traffic meanders its way through the city's main street, a professionally dressed lady, wearing a black purse, enters the TD bank on the corner; engines of a beat-up Chevy from the 70s roar to life, its driver taking out sunglasses to prepare for the drive; three women from three generations, all blonde, stroll home on the sidewalk - the grandmother giving me a strange glance.

I don't know whether or not I should be thankful that in the last few days it's been hitting 30 degrees - quite the contrast from merely a week ago, when I still walked around town in my heavy leather jacket. Barely off work, in the blazing sun, I walk around four city blocks searching frantically for the used bookstore that I longed for. I walked back and forth, the same route twice, to no avail. I enter a pawn shop, for the first time in recent memory. In the midst of used computer monitors, used DVDs, and stacks of miscellaneous mechanical objects with handwritten tags, I hit the counter, where two ladies are waiting, presumably to claim something they've previously pawned. I tried searching for the owner. Maybe he has an idea of where this used bookstore is.

I came upon two venerable old gentlemen. One was heavily wrinkled and had some difficulty walking, making me question whether or not I should approach him. I did anyway. I tried to be as succinct as possible in my pronunciation, asking for directions to the nearest used bookstore, knowing there was only one of these in town. He replies, "You'd have to go ask Dale" and wandered off.

With the city's demographic profile dominated by Aboriginals and Ukrainians, I still have thoughts once in a while, of whether or not they think it's strange this professionally dressed Chinese boy just approached them without a trace of an accent. Did I look out of place within the crammed towers of pawned goods? Seemed pretty likely.

I then came up to "Dale", who was a lot more helpful in my inquiry. He actually went over to the cashier's desk to find a phone book, and was able to point to me the exact location of this would-be used bookstore. Ah! That's where it is. On 2nd, where I've been looking constantly on the wrong side of the road. Alarmed by my own ineptitude, I trek onto 2nd Avenue to pick up some thrillers from my favourite author.

As I turn the corner I noticed two teenagers in black dress attire coming down the sidewalk. They looked in their mid-teens. I walked past them, only to see a girl in her black dress with her boyfriend, also dressed as if for some occasion, heading towards their vehicle.

Then it hit me. Today was the funeral for three local boys killed in a single-vehicle car crash this past weekend. This theory was confirmed when I saw an old Ford drive by, windows open, with a girl, clad in a black dress, wet with tears from weeping, trying to form a coherent sentence to whoever was in the driver's seat.

Initially, it felt to me that this sunny afternoon in Yorkton has just wrapped itself in a gray haze of mourning. But then I recalled the two boys who I just saw, strutting down 2nd Avenue in the sun, with the accident scene only blocks away, discussing something that made them chuckle.

Apparently, not everyone is so caught up in tears.

This made me wonder about how the accident is being perceived. While no one can doubt that the event - in which three teens drove themselves at a high speed into a tree - was very tragic, I couldn't help but think that this event would be forgotten merely months from now, and we see the same tragedy playing all over again. Anyone with personal connections to the boys, reasonably, has let grief override any rational analysis of how the accident could have been, so easily prevented.

Once the tears are shed, and eulogies delivered, and people slowly walk out of the local church tonight, a community whose heart and soul seemed shattered a mere five days ago will return to the day-in and day-out business of everyday life. Years from now, will people still remember?

Every month?

I've tried to make it a habit to post at least one entry every month. Guess that wasn't as successful. Recently I've been itching to write about a few things, like the 20th Anniversary of the Tiananmen Square Massacre, the fragile state of life (having had a classmate pass away suddenly in early June), and the Air France 447 crash.

But it's getting late and work awaits tomorrow. So sleep is needed.

The Susan Boyle Effect

If you haven't seen it yet, you should. As of the afternoon of April 16, the video of Susan Boyle's performance on Britain's Got Talent on YouTube has garnered over 12.3 million views, growing by the second. It's been five days since it happened.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9lp0IWv8QZY

Embedding on this video is disabled. The views just keep climbing. I have seen it now posted over and over again in my Facebook news feed and threads. 

But why?

Surely, she is an underdog. Crowds love cheering on the underdog, as a matter of psychology. But what's more, is that everyone doubted her upon seeing her walk onto the stage, and she overcame all expectations. Through listening to her, people overturned their own biases and judgments. People gave themselves a slap on the face.

Her confidence was striking. 47, unemployed, and living with her cat, she did not show a tinge of insecurity when revealing that she's never been married, or kissed. She gladly revealed her age and her aspirations, as if certain of the outcome.  Then, after her performance, she was ready to walk off the stage as if unaware of the deliberation process.

I wonder if the make-up laden girl who so prominently sneered at her can exuberate the same type of confidence when she returns to her clique of peers in Junior High.

But this entire phenomenon now begs a very important question. 

Susan Boyle won the heart of the world because she was allowed to sing. She was allowed the opportunity to perform and show her talent. 

In the real world, how many times is this opportunity denied to people? How many similar underdogs in society get denied a spot on the football team, misses out on a job offer, can't get into medical school, or get refused service, purely because of superficial judgments, and are never given the opportunity to try and prove themselves? 

There are millions more of Susan Boyle's out there, waiting to be discovered. The question is, will society let them be discovered, or will they continue to succumb under the veneer of superficiality that has always guided human judgment? 

Now that you've seen the video, your guess is as good as mine.