In the Rain

The Saint Louis skies quickly turned overcast yesterday afternoon and the apparently sunny day abruptly darkened. The boiling tarmac of the downtown streets cooled and the flags that hung outside a nearby government building flapped wildly in warning.

I had planned to attempt a walk to the nearest Post Office to drop off some outgoing mail. It was not so much about the necessity to send a package out as it was the ambition to walk. Each day I’m attempting to walk, with the aid of an ankle brace, a little farther than the day before. Each day the walk is a little longer and the pain is a little less, though I still need the brace and I still cannot maneuver steps or curbs without significant pain.

I decided to risk the rain, as I wanted to walk more than anything, so I brought my one umbrella, an old relic of an umbrella that was a gift to me when I was living in China. I strapped on my ankle brace and prepared to stagger to the post office. The umbrella has been through many storms now.

I got to the post office before the rain started. Inside, the only customers were me and a young African American boy of about 8 years old who must’ve been dropping something off for his parents. He had a shaved head and the chubby cheeks of youth that I find endearing.

As we stood in line, sheets of rain suddenly slammed into the street outside. Lightning flashed intermittently in the skies and thunder made its familiar peal. The boy’s eyes widened and I noticed he had no umbrella or rain jacket.

We left the store at about the same time and I could tell the boy was nervous; the streets were flooding quickly and it would require only a few seconds of outdoor exposure to get fully soaked.

“I’m going that direction,” I said, pointing across Tucker Boulevard. “Just three blocks ahead is where my stop is.” I didn’t want to seem like a creep, but did want to offer to share my umbrella for those three blocks. It turned out he was going to the same apartment building. So off we went.

So I held the umbrella in front of us, practically using it as a shield against a charging enemy, as the rain hit from a slanted angle and the wind whipped the rain into us. And what an adventure it was! Braving forward, into the belly of the beast, busted ankle or not. The boy was filled with joy and his grin spread ear to ear; he was loving this adventure and he wanted to move faster, to run. I was enjoying the storm too and wanted to charge ahead as fast as my ankle would allow. The umbrella did little to protect from the rain but neither of us gave a damn.

And the boy sped ahead a little, almost at running speed, and I wanted to will my busted ankle to speed up as well, I wanted to run for this fleeting moment, this brief adventure! And I limped forward a little faster, though I couldn’t run. “Forward march!” He proudly declared. And I did what I could to keep pace.

And in the moment I forgot about the other mundane bullshit that I had left behind, the crap that I hoped would die yet still loomed ahead: the Virtual Meetings, the appointments, the Conference calls, the emails, the adult nonsense that people say is important but really isn’t. For that moment the ankle pain subsided, and I moved faster, into a storm, just me and nature getting to know one another! Though I couldn’t run I felt close, very close… it felt tangible again, running… like it was creeping around the corner, the surprise guest at an upcoming party.

The European pirates of the world, those nomads of a world before technology and the Industrial Revolution and our phones and all of the communication toys that distanced us with their conveniences, those pirates must have lived a much more fulfilling life than the cocooned masses of today.

And what a fun crossing of the street that was for me. I felt joy from being soaked in a storm and relief that I didn’t give a damn about it. It was fun to just maneuver over a flooded street while nature inflicted its chaos upon the overly sanitized masses!

We arrived and went our separate ways and I thought about what I wanted to tell the boy but didn’t say: “Don’t listen to others when they tell you money is everything, college is everything, good grades are everything, nice things and educated jobs are what fulfill you. None of it will make you happy. Experience is important! Connection is important! Don’t follow the herd, pave your own path, be your own person, let herds ignore you or follow you as they may, enjoy adventures, enjoy storms, enjoy walking and running and sunshine and rain! To hell with retirement plans! They are spoon fed to the sheep along with the lie that they will live forever, they aim to destroy the moment and cripple your youth, don’t let those crocodiles devour you, as they only feed on your youth! To hell with anyone who tells you that you can’t exercise without a calorie counter, or that you can’t love someone without first showing them a nice car!”

What joy it was to be caught in a storm for that fleeting moment, and how amazing it felt to have that joy erase my ankle pain. The pain did not return with a vengeance as I feared. Conversely, I feel a little better today.

I am thinking of the ending to Stephen King’s It. Bill’s wife is rendered comatose after looking at It, the devourer of children, an immortal entity that I interpreted as a metaphor for the death of childhood. So in an attempt to save his wife, Bill finds his favorite bicycle from his childhood, Silver. He places his wife on the bicycle with him and they ride down a steep hill together. Bill shares with his comatose wife his favorite pastime. And in the adventure it seems that some life returns to his wife, a sign that maybe there is still some life inside of the vegetable that her body became. Perhaps It can be conquered after all.

I also thought of my grandfather on that Florida beach, many years ago, when he supposedly couldn’t walk, yet somehow managed to run in order to throw a football with the grandkids. What a strange thing the human body is.

Sometimes you just have to embrace the rain.