Brianna Ruiz
English 115
Professor Overman
November 13, 2012
Accomodation
The sun had centered itself overhead, beaming down on the city of Winnetka. Even though it was a quarter to twelve, the time it was said for the weather to reach its high point, the sun kept its power soft. The wind was not so kind and made a victim to those who dared to step out without a jacket on, a sign that fall was here. Luckily for Brent Staples, an editorial writer for the New York Times, he had dressed in layers in preparation for the weather at the park.
On his way over to the bleachers he marveled at the scene around him, taking in the light atmosphere that hung in the air. To his left he could just make out three children engaging themselves in the playground they now took over. Their parents he guessed were the couple sitting on a bench just a few feet away, glancing every so often during conversation as a protective reflex. To his right were a handful of people scattered about, some laying on the grass soaking up the sun others playing with their seemingly friendly dogs. As he smiled at the simplicity of the scene, his attention was drawn behind him when a sudden tap on his shoulders caused him to turn to his expected friend.
“Stephen Dunn,” said Staples smiling, “You’re early. I was expecting you to arrive in a little over twenty minutes.”
“I thought I’d get us something to eat on the way over,” he said lifting the Subway bag. The wind blew against him with such a force that he almost dropped the sandwich he was handing Staples, who scoot over to give him room to sit. “I left early thinking ordering would take some time. Nothing special, just some turkey and cheese. I toasted them both on account of the weather, nothing tastes better on a cold day than a warm sandwich.”
“Except soup,” Staples countered staring off into the distance,” But soup takes a while to cool down before you can eat it.”
“True. So what’s the reason you called me out here for? Is there something on your mind?”
Staples looked over at his fellow scholar then back to the field. He took a bite out of his sandwich, swallowing its contents before clearing his throat and responding. “I’ve just been needing to go someplace unfamiliar and bring something with familiarity. There aren’t many peaceful places I can hold a conversation with you and I just wanted to catch up a bit.”
“Well you chose a peaceful place alright, the air is a nice temperature and there doesn’t seem to be people in a hurry to whatever life calls them for. It’d be wishful thinking for all parks to be this way wouldn’t it? Not having the slightest care in the world, even for a moment. It’s just you and the space surrounding you, with a gentle tune of relaxation playing in the background.”
“Until someone walks by or even walks in. Then your space is violated, maybe even offended and you need to reestablish your sense of safety.”
“Reestablish how? If that space is sacred to you there is no need. You know the place already, there’s no reason to fix the measure of safety when you know it’s already there.”
“Not with me, with others,” Staples said flatly,” They’re the ones you need to make feel safe again.”
“You need to make them feel safe again?” Dunn chuckled,” My apologies but it’s not your fault society assumes the worst in us. I don’t see the reason for me to learn cheerful tunes to whistle simply because people would rather judge me than get to know me.”
“Well you have that luxury Dunn. Unless you dressed yourself as a grimy hobo, no one would take a second glance at you with concerns for their well-being.”
“Even if they did, I wouldn’t accommodate myself to their stereotypical prejudiced assumptions. Unless I have shown them proof of being classified as a threat, I shouldn’t be taken as one. Simple as that.”
“It isn’t about accommodation and we both know everyone is prejudicial. It’s nature. We have no way around it no matter how well we’re raised.”
“As true as that may be, there is still that choice to drop those thoughts the minute they come up. Lets say whistling didn’t help. What then? You’d have to go out of your way at that point in order to make those around you comfortable.”
Staples sighed. It wasn’t a sigh of defeat, but one of exhaustion at the subject. He knew Dunn wouldn’t back down if the conversation continued from here and decided to agree to disagree. He shifted himself against the cold metal and with a tired smile asked, “How about we go play some golf?”
Work Cited
Staples, Brent. “Just Walk on By.” Convergences. 3rd ed. New York: Bedford/St. Martin’s, 2008. 331-34. Print.
Dunn, Stephen. “The Sacred.” Convergences. 3rd ed. New York: Bedford/St. Martin’s, 2008. 331-34. Print.
