'But Thee and Me'

I know you’ll want to write this down, so if you want to run and get a pencil, I’ll wait. Got it? Okay, here it is: People…are…strange. You might want to needlepoint it on a sampler.

Being a little strange is part of being an individual human being. We all have our own quirks, some of which we recognize in ourselves, but more often that others recognize in us. Some of us go out of our way to cultivate our differences, others try very hard to hide them.

There are three basic categories of strangeness: those…probably the majority…who are strange by nature, those who are strange by nature and design, and those who manipulate and exploit their strangeness. There are as many types of strangeness within each category as there are wildflowers on a Nebraska prairie in May. Most still fit into the broad category of garden-variety strange, ranging from those who iron their underwear and arrange their sock drawer by color to those who wear aluminum hats to prevent the F.B.I. from reading their thoughts. They largely go unheralded because they are as a rule content to keep their strangeness largely to themselves.

The “ordinary strange” seldom can be spotted in a crowd; it is the latter two groups that draw the most attention. Fads and fashions are a common way the second group cultivates their strangeness. “In” fashions, hairstyles, piercings, tattoos, wearing baseball caps at the cutest angles…all are ways to stand out. People flock to these trends, with the result that they all end up looking exactly alike and must go off in search of the next trend or fad.

The third group combines natural strangeness with calculation and purpose to achieve their own goals. Many if not most of the “famous” people throughout history fit this category. Artists —writers, painters, musicians—are generally strange, though many seem to work particularly hard at it. Salvador Dali, Picasso, Liberace, Ernest Hemingway, Andy Warhol, are only a few.

It’s when strangeness includes the “control factor” that strangeness passes from charming to weird, and far too often to dangerous. These people often use their strangeness to deliberately exploit stupidity and hatred to gain attention and power: Anita Bryant (remember her? No? Good!), Jerry Falwell and his ilk, etc. And when strangeness segues into weird that it becomes a cause for concern. And when this is mixed with megalomania and arrogance we get the truly frightening likes of Idi Amin, Atilla the Hun, and Adolph Hitler

I enjoy the unobtrusively strange; people with harmless little quirks which set them gently apart from others. As long as one’s strangeness does not impose negatively on anyone else, it lends both spice and charm to our lives. I still remember, from the first time I lived in Chicago, the little old lady who walked past my apartment building frequently. She had to have been in her 80s st the time, and was thin to the point of being gaunt. She always dressed as though she were going to the opera: long, white—or black, depending on the season—dress, elbow-length gloves, high-heel shoes, large-brimmed white hat with a red or black cabbage rose, pancake makeup with bright red lips and a toy-soldier circle of rouge on each cheek. Though I never had the chance to speak with her, I remember her fondly after all these years.

I’ve always been fond of the old Quaker proverb: “All are strange but thee and me…and I have my doubts about thee.” Hey, if the shoe fits…

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