Bobby Doe

I promised myself I would write more. More "e" for the blogs.

Today an old childhood neighbor came to mind, Bobby Doe. I say neighbor and not playmate because Bobby was a loner. None of the kids on the block ever really played with him or seemed eager to hang out with him.

I have not spoken with Bobby in at least 40 years. I have not seen him in about the same amount of time. Why he came to mind? I could not tell you. Your guess is about as good as mine. But I feel certain it has significance, as god speaks in a myriad of forms,languages, mediums and symbols. Some I am still attempting to translate and decipher.

Sometimes it seems computer language has gotten to such an advanced stage that it like the computer Hal in 2001: A Space Odyssey, has digressed to the fetal position. In etymology, the science and study of languages such a digression would be back to the time of cuneiform many thousands of years ago, when writing was done on clay tablets.

Oh well, maybe I will categorize this writing today as a "memory sculpture", a lot like a music sculpture, a concept I created several years ago. This is my memories playlist for today, created especially for imparting a Guide for Daily Living or one to put you in touch with all the Bobbies in the world.

Memories like songs can also spin on the cranial jukebox. Before you know it, a song comes to mind and Voila you have an entire mosaic of mediums,images and sound fragments coming together and providing a Kaleidescopic panorama of memory and song. Beautiful things to reflect about and eventually,at some point if you choose, to share.

Sometimes flashbacks like this one are spiced with wafting aromas. Activating my sense of smell as they softly glide up the nose, making more poignant the remembrances like this one that has been dormant for decades. In this instance I think of bright yellow dandelions, their tiny spidery petals,toothpick thin stems sliding into blade shaped roots, emitting a unique grassy scent.

Somehow the weed and its fragrance was more noticeable during childhood. Feels great making that connection now as I reflect about what I recall most about Bobby and the character myth or stereotype he represented in the neighborhood. Bobby you might say was one of the outsiders like a dandelion is to flowers. In his heart he may have wanted to mix and mingle,but the kids just wouldn't seem to let him. I could remember the days when I'd walk down the street headed to the party store. I might see him running or otherwise trying to make himself scarce from some the neighborhood kids who would be immediately behind him or up in his face calling him names and trying to bully him into or out of something. The spirit was almost like that of a gardener who spots a weed in the flower bed. The immediate reaction, to dig it up and throw it out with a quickness. Though I have learned over the years that some of the most attractive floral arrangements might be those with a few decorative weeds tossed in. Simply ironic,wouldn't you say?

Bobby always appeared so vulnerable and helpless. Always running. He cried frequently also,which is a no no for a boy. I would feel so sorry for him. I must have been between seven and ten years old when observing the worst of it.

Bobby. That was his first name. But the name that he was called most and you could say reached a kind of "mantra" level from the mouths of the little boy ruffians on the block was Cissy. Bobby was taunted by that name a lot. I think it was because of his look. He always had an afraid look on his face. It was almost as though he just couldn't relate to or identify with the barbs and disses by the other kids. If I didn't know any better, and I probably don't,since I never really sat down and asked him how he really felt about it,I'd say he was just plain oblivious to it all.

Not only that, he'd take up running as swiftly as a gazelle when any of the neighborhood boys would even look at him in a threatening manner. I never saw Bobby stand up for himself. This probably made him the bullies best victim. The sense of helplessness and vulnerability seems to draw them like magnets. Further, Bobby was not known for standing his ground,which no doubt made him much easier, maybe even more attractive prey. He also seemed to be on punishment a lot on the home front, which may have increased his bully attraction quotient as well.

I'd often ask his mom about him the times I'd pass by the house on the way to the neighborhood market. She would more often than not reply, "Bobby's on punishment." He would get into trouble a lot in school as well. I'm sure her voice traveled so that his intimidators could easily hear the latest news. They knew when and if he was on shakey ground with his family also. The houses on our block were pretty close together. In fact, it was a tight knit community. Everybody knew each others business. Some neighbors' business you knew more than others though. You could credit that to the gossips, rumor machines and other rapid means of getting the word out.

What's the moral of this story?

I think it is that somebody's got to stand in the gap and be there for people who become targets like Bobby. There may be a situation brewing in your community. There may be a pressing need for your presence or for your intercession by prayer or taking specific actions otherwise to show concern about somebody. You may just need to do what is on your heart with no request for anything in return. The quid pro quo bargained for exchange does not seem to fit in this kind of situation.

Right now I am wondering where Bobby is, if he's still alive, if he ever got married, if he went to college,etc.

Do you know a Bobby? If so,you may want to pray for him. You may want to express your care about the situation in a creative way. Send a good book, make a phone call or just drop by and say hi. If there is a more critical condition brewing, then you may be called to do something more expedient to the circumstances. It could be that you are being prompted to help your Bobby in a way that could really make a difference and completely turn the situation around once and for all.

God bless you and I love you.

Cynthia,
The Chaplain of Pop



Listening to:

Oh Where Oh Where Can My Baby Be?

83(John Mayer)

In the Midst of it All (Yolanda Adams)

Stand by Me(Ben E. King)

Tommy(The Who)

Ode to Billy Joe(Bobbie Gentry)

We Fall Down (Donny McClurkin)