Sad Passings

Urban walking in Covington is always interesting. Lovely old homes, sometimes converted to offices, dogs of all shapes and sizes, this time of year (spring) flowering trees...pink and purple tulip magnolias, soft pink weeping cherries and the ubiqitous Bradford Pears line the streets.

There is also a large cross section of character actors walking about. Construction workers in multi colored protective hats, folks of Appalaichan descent (Purdy Dawg) business men and women, wearing suits and a grim, impatient expression, retired folks sidewalk supervising construction workers, African Americans young and old, (what a gulf between the two) young, sometimes very young mothers pushing strollers, and youngsters, curious about me, about the dog, about the trees, about everything.

But this writing is about one man I know in my mind as "The Urban Imam".

During my walks, I make it a habit to speak to everyone that passes by. Normally a "good morning" or a "How ya doin'" or a "hey"; an innocuos greeting, acknowledging that were both on the planet, and isn't that great!!!

In return, I get a greeting, or a nod with a smile, or a snub. I call a snub an act where someone not only ignores you, but turns their head away and won't look at you no matter what.

It should come as no surprise that the pleasnt responders make me feel good, while the snubbers make me want to challenge them with remarks like "hey. man, what did I ever do to you?" or "what's your problem?"

It's a dance that I do in my brain, and some folks dance with me better than others. It's a matter of knowing the steps, and hearing the music.

But the "Urban Imam" wrenches my soul more than most.

 He walks from the South, about 8:30 or earlier. (It seems whatever time I'm walking, we cross paths) His gait is strong, his posture perfect. He wears a dark, inexpensive sport coat and slacks, and a white dress shirt buttoned to the collar, with no tie. He is a moderately slight black man, not too skinny, but not fat at all. His eyes protrude just short of pop-eyed or bug-eyed. They are deep brown, but burn with a fire, and deep mistrust. His goatee is white and narrow, about three inches long and perfectly groomed. He wears a white turban somewhat faded with age. The turban is not of the tall variety, but squatter. It encircles his head, and has a small dome-like surface on the top. I suppose there is a name for this sort of turban, but my sad lack of knowledge about the Islamic culture means the description I made will have to do, for now.

The first time we passed, I shortened up the leash on Charlie, as I always do when passing some one and I smiled and said "good morning". He looked at me with his fire-breathing eyes, moved on, and said nothing. There was no expressioin of dislike, no disdain, just eye contact and moving on. Different from a snub, there was silent acknowledgment of existence, but then a moving on. That was the first time.

After the first time, there were several passings, all exactly the same. "good morning." Nothing.

 "Good morning" Nothing.

"Good morning" Nothing.

"Good morning" Nothing.

Maybe ten or more times.

I wanted to say to him "what's your name"? Are you Muslim? Would you like to stop for coffee?

My name's Al, this is Charlie, isn't it a great day?

But since all I recieved were grim lips and a pulsing stare, I had to let it go.

But there are other things I would say to him, if we ever had a chance to talk at length. Things like "I don't know much about the Muslim religion, what can you tell me? (Of course he may not even be Muslim, I'm just going by his Turban. He could be Sikh, or another sect altogether...who knows?)

There is just something about the guy. For some reason his "vibes" reach me more than most of the people I see daily on the street. He intrigues me more than the older women on a bus stop bench the other day yelling the words "South Viet Nam" and "these are the Goddamned United Staes of America!" I smiled and waved to her, and received a rather intense stare.

I wish, as I am writing this, that I could say I ran into the "Urban Imam" in line at the post office, that we exchange pleasantries, and agree to meet for lunch. I'm afraid that will never be. For now, when he sees me coming down the sidewalk, he crosses the street to avoid my good morning greeting. I miss the challenge of his eyes that bore into my spirit, and the purposeful ignoring of my greeting.

Whenever I am curious about something, but have no way to resolve the curiosity, I make up questions in my head. Does he hate me because I'm white? (If so it mus be a sad world for him, surrounded by Caucasions.) Is he afraid of my dog? (I always keep close by my side when others are near, and he is obviously no threat) Do I represent infidels to him? Because I am open and friendly, does he interpret that as coming on to him? What the hell happened to him to make him so distrustful?

I wish him well, and during meditations will send positive energy his way. I woulld tell him that we are all travellers on the same ship, and we should be pleasant to one another simply because it makes us feel better. And then I would quote the only passage from the Bible that makes any sense to me. "God is love, and he who abides in love abides in God, and God in him."