the schooner

so i went down to the schooner tonight.  the schooner is a really crappy, low-life bar that shares a parking lot with the rainbow foods grocery store in my neighborhood.  i usually avoid the place like the plague, but for some reason, tonight, i paid a visit.  my first drink, which cost me $3.15, was so strong that i had to ask for more mix.  three times.  i went out to the back where the smoking lounge was to have a cigarette, and i brought a book.  i did not want to talk to anyone at this skanky place.  my solace was short lived, however, when a very gregarious black woman wanted to talk to me.  her daughter was there with her, and as she told me, her daughter was getting on her last nerve.  she wanted to know if i was ever embarrassed by my own mother.  i was only on my first drink, one sip in, but my eyes kind of welled up and i told her that my mother was no longer alive, and that i would kill to have my mother embarrass me again.  she was a little bit drunk, and she told me that she was my new black mother named annette and did i want to come over for thanksgiving because she was cooking.  then i met her daughter, who was 28, and had cut her thumb just that morning opening up a can of little smokies for her son.  the daughter told me that she worked with the homeless, but wouldn't tell me where because she was embarrassed for being so drunk and didn't want that to reflect upon  her workplace.  fair enough.  but then i wanted to buy another cocktail, so i went inside.  i wound up sitting next to a guy who looked like he may have been somolian.  i was a bit reserved when he asked me how my night was going.  turns out, shakura(his name) was born in africa, but had moved to amsterdam when he was six, and then moved to germany where he had two children, and then moved to atlanta, and then finally ended up in minneapolis eleven years ago because his sister lives here, and he liked it.  oh, yeah, and he speaks SIX languages fluently.  SIX LANGUAGES.  he worked as an interpreter for a few months, but he hated it, and now drives a truck delivering bread.  and he has some eyelashes that are like six inches long.  i am not even kidding you.  and he was wearing a t-shirt that said "vote for pedro" which i found kind of funny.  then i had to use the restroom, and when i came back everyone on the smoking porch was gone except for this one skinny old white guy with a beard, a red hat, a black leather jacket, and a knit scarf.  i asked him how he was doing, and he told me about how he grew up on a farm in southern minnesota, and how he was in a band for the last 40 years, and how he was at a thrift store earlier in the day and was trying to buy his scarf and hat that he had on right now, but he didn't have enough money.  he asked the guy behind the counter if the guy could just let it slide, he was only short one dollar, but the guy said no.  turns out, a girl standing behind him in line said, "hey, here's a dollar, give the guy his stuff".  and then i looked at him a little closer.  because earlier in the day, i happened to be in a thrift store, and the guy in front of me was trying to buy a hat and a scarf, and he had three one dollar bills spread out on the counter, and a little bit of change, and the guy behind the counter said he couldn't buy all of that because he didn't have enough money, so i said, "hey, how much does he need?  one dollar? "  so i gave the guy a dollar.  who wouldn't?  and then there he was, at the schooner bar, telling me about me giving him a dollar, and not even recognizing it was me.  to be fair, i didn't recognize it was him either.but it was,and th we talked about how strange it was that we should meet again on the same day in a totally different place.  and then the place was closing, so we all had to leave, my new mother, my new sister, my multi-lingual new gorgeous friend, and the guy i gave a dollar to earlier in the day.  most likely, i will never see any one of them again.  but i have gained some valuable insight.  EVERY DAY  i wonder what the point is. . .i work so i can eat, so i can sleep, so i can work. every day is the same.  eat.  work.  sleep.  eat.  work.  sleep.  i am so grateful to be reminded that it is much more than that.  even though we all have a theory about what happens to us when we die, no one really knows, faith or no faith.  but what i was reminded of tonight, even in the most disgusting of venues, my relationships with other people whether fleeting or long-term, that's what matters.  that is why i am here.  other people, and the way i interact with them is the point.