Newscoma

I struggle sometimes to see the relevance of certain things and then small, significant things happen that put those very things into perspective for me.

I’m in Memphis right now. A stranger gave me a lesson on her views of the infrastructure here and why her city’s politics were fascinating. She did this while she was playing a Megatouch game that was somewhat like a Scrabble game.

“You new here?” she asked while staring at the screen, hitting letters to create words faster than the Blue Angels. My back was to her, so I was surprised that she had spoken to me. She was older, I’d say in her mid-50s, and was wearing a Beale Street T-shirt from 2003.

I nodded. She said she was a schoolteacher and noticed I was taking everything in. She called over the owner of the small bar I stopped into last night and introduced me to her. You could tell that she was somewhat of a regular, as their was an easiness between patron and owner. I told them who I was and we started talking. The conversation inevitably turned to politics when I told them about my part-time job. She told me her name was Sheila. The owner saw a friend of hers and left us to greet one of what I can only assume was a regular customer.

“Memphis politics is an odd funny game,” Sheila said, putting another quarter into the machine, her hands moving automatically into the creation of more words quickly. She eyed the machine and then gave me fleeting glances as to let me know that she was involved in the conversation and the game. “You just learning some of this stuff?”

I told her that I had watched Memphis politics for years, but always from outside the looking glass. She nodded as if she understood.

“I’ve been in the school system here for nearly 30 years. Herenton wasn’t a bad superintendent you know back in the beginning. He fought for us for some things we needed. Then he became mayor and we saw less of the man we knew. You familiar with him?”

I said that I was and that I’d seen him speak a few times.  I told her I didn’t understand why he’d run for mayor again only to say he was going to resign not even three months after the last mayoral election.

“I guess I just don’t get it,” I countered. “That just seemed like a colossal waste of time.”

She laughed, “No one does when it comes to him. You aren’t alone.”

Her game was over and she turned toward me. “Memphis is one of those places that politics doesn’t always make sense. We are the largest city in the state, but it’s like there are two or three cities here. The infighting in this town in incredible. I’ve been in the system myself for a long time and I can tell you that the thing that not only Memphis needs, but this entire state, is for people to be clear so we know what we are getting when we vote. I guess that is everywhere but it makes me lose faith. I want to know what’s going on. I don’t want politicians dumbing it down for me.”

She sighed. I was surprised she was being so frank with me, a total stranger, about her politics. Politics, such as topics such as religion, usually isn’t thrown out there within 15 minutes of meeting somebody.

“The thing is that we watch the fights, and then we find out about the bills these guys pass after the fact. But maybe it’s our fault too. I gave up on being a voice a long time ago when I thought I wasn’t making a difference. Do you think you make a difference?” Sheila looked at me intently.

The question, although not unexpected, caught me off guard. I told her I didn’t know but I hope I could.

Sheila smiled at me. “That’s good. You’ve given me some food for thought today.”

“What grade do you teach?” I asked.

“Sixth-graders, who are just old enough to be smart-asses, but young enough that I think maybe each day I might have some hand in making a kid do something that might not thought they could do.”

The issue steadily went into what it’s like to be a schoolteacher and how she really wishes that politicians trusted teachers a little more before the owner came over and gave me her business card.  Sheila and I’s moment was done.

I still feel like I’m standing on the outside looking into a snowglobe, but I also feel like I learned something too.  The Sheilas of the world quit using their voice because they didn’t feel like it mattered. I found that incomprehensibly sad but I did feel by the end of our conversation, she might find that voice again as well.

There are a lot people in this world with a lot of different voices. I’m glad that Sheila shared hers with me. Maybe it’s just finding the right letters to put together the words that we all need sometimes.