Oscar the Janitor

I started working for the Urban League of Greater Madison in October of 2003. The first project I worked on and the whole four plus years I worker there, was at a middle school here in Madison, Wisconsin.

After being at the school for a little while, I noticed one of the janitors. His name is Oscar and he is a beautiful man from Costa Rico. He has a dark complexion for a Costa Rican with a graying beard and sideburns and short wavy balding hair. He typically wears t-shirts with bright colors. His brown eyes are full and deep. He moved to the states many years ago as an adult. He is friendly in such a warm and genuine manner that it is hard not to want to be around him. To be honest, his smile beams greater than almost anyone I have ever seen. It radiates out to fill up the whole hallway while having casual conversation. He always has a minute to engage in brief interactions; every one of them is filled with all his presence and sweetness.

One day, some of the boys were making fun of Oscar but he paid no mind while they laughed and teased him about “being just a janitor”. One of my co-workers pulled the boys into our room and shut the door. I was new to the scene, but knew what that meant. Arthur and Barry, the two guys I share space with, shut the door when they want to say things that would get them fired with the door open. He explained to the boys how disrespectful and rude it was to speak to a janitor like that. One of the boys made a comment like "Yeah, but he is just a janitor!" Then Arthur shared with the boys (and me) about Oscar:

Oscar had been a high level corporate executive, a real mover and shaker. He owns several expensive cars and retired early after accumulating more wealth than needed. After retiring, he wanted to be around kids but did not want to have the responsibility for them. So, he chose to be a school janitor.

My mentor has an expression that I hold close to me. She talks about "hiding in plain site". By this, she means being out in the world but drawing no special attention to yourself- being present without being noticed. Oscar is a master at hiding in plain site. He cleans the classrooms and bathrooms with such ease and grace. He moves his boom box with him down the halls after-school, while listening to the local Spanish station, La Movida. He never stresses or looks bothered by the mess the kids make. You would never even know he can read or write by how simply he carries himself, forget about being a high powered corporate executive.

I hope sometime in my life I smile once as brightly and beautifully, as he does daily while cleaning school hallways, classrooms and bathrooms. My mentor has recommended to me many times over the last 15+ years that being a night janitor would be an excellent job for me- working with my hands, simple, focused, no drama and do something for people who never know you do it for them. I am still too attached to being important to make that leap yet. It is not that I do not see the benefit for me, I do. It is just the ego is still firmly in control of this man.

The Truth is that his smile has its source in him, not in his moisturizer, shower gel or "age defying cream". Peace, Joy and Love are the original beauty secrets (and much cheaper too). For those who want another more practical resource Dr. Bronner's Magic Soaps. Their quote is " Enjoy only 2 cosmetics, enough sleep & Dr. Bronner's Magic Soap to clean body-mind-soul-spirit instantly uniting ONE! All-One!" They are the only the only products I use on a regular basis. It is Oscar's Inner smile that brightens the hallways. It is his willingness to give without need for thanks or recognition that shines for us to see if we look. I have run into Oscar several times out while he is walking his two really cool, unusual dogs, and that same presence and peace is still there.

Happiness and the willingness to share it with others is the secret to staying, feeling and looking young. I am grateful I have had a janitor like Oscar in my life to remind me of how this all works.

My friend Oscar The Janitor.

Old Bricks

I love the way old bricks feel under my bare feet in the summer. They have many seemingly contradictory but actually contrasting textures; smooth and rough, soft and hard, natural and manufactured. I cam feel some of the cracks on the ball of my foot letting me know they are real. This is especially true when the bricks are old, and time, water and footsteps have created a surface with out any sharp edges. These reed bricks are aged well into greens and browns as well. The William and Mary campus only has red bricks like these on al their walkways.

Leaning back against a short brick wall of three layers equally about eight inches, I feel at home here. The steps, eight in number lead to and from the Sunken Gardens. I still do not know why they are called “gardens” since it is just a grass field, one that I enjoy but still just a field surrounded by a dozen sets of brick steps with a lining of the shrubs on the horizontal sides and trees on the ends. The trees appeal to me more then the shrubs. Shrubs usually look too manicured and un-natural to me, these are no exception. Trees, well they’re tress and tell me great stories, sometimes I can hear them. They tell us where we came from and who we are and our greatness.

There is a white male sunbathing at the far end. He brought a folding chair with him but he is now lying face down on a blanket, no correct that, face up. It is not as easy to tell which is which with a man at a distance as it is for a woman. Women’s sunbathing attire is drastically different front and back, not men's. Why do white people sunbathe? Why do they not like their natural skin color? It s interesting to me that many of the folks who sunbathe are prejudice and discriminate against people of color but spend hours ad days sunbathing every summer trying to get darker. And then they pay to go in microwave-type machines in the winter to further avoid looking like themselves. What is wrong with their skin that they need to try to change races to appear sexy? Why does they attach healthiness to tanning? For people like me, it is not a matter of health or anything else. My skin gets darker even when bike riding in the snow of winter.

If one knows the history of “tanning”, they know that before passenger planes were invented, having a “tan” meant you were a low-income, uneducated outside worker. Those with money and wealth would go to great lengths to not be exposed to the sun to not be confused with “the servants” who had “tanned” during the summer. The came passenger planes and vacations to Florid and other southern USA beach destinations. The cultural climate changes because now having a “tan” in the winter demonstrated wealth. Even “the servants” were not “tan” in the winter like them. Then came the bikini, the supermodel and finally “tanning salons”/microwave ovens for humans. Why do white people want top change their skin color, hair color, nail color, lip color and now with fake colored contact lenses, their eye color so much? If “white is right” then why are they are trying so hard not to be white?

Of course, this is just one example of us humans not accepting ourselves for who we are. White peoples obsession with looking different is not ht beginning nor the most glaring example of lacking self-acceptance. For me personally, this takes many shapes and forms. As an Italian male like many others similar to me, I have a lot of body hair. Depending on the day and my feelings about myself on that day, will determine whether I will be wearing a tank top on the beach or shirtless. Ironically, two of the women that I have been serious partners of mine, partially chose me because they like men with thick dark body hair. But this did nothing to ease my insecurities.

The red bricks are still here. After sitting ion them for a while, my butt is starting to hurt. What felt pleasurable then, now feels rough and stiff on the heals of my feet. Time to go. I say goodbye to a good friend at dinner tonight. I will miss her even though I am the one leaving. I will miss these Sunken Gardens without a garden. Time to go…

Beth

We were both attending meetings of the same self-help group. It had been six months since the first time I saw her. I fell for her before she even opened her mouth. She was soft, warm and genuine in her walk and demeanor. When she opened her mouth and spoke, there were no more questions: I would pursue her.

As common for me then and now, I was shy and intimidate by her physical beauty. Besides the obvious challenge of being shy, in my case that meant acting differently than myself around her. This is a self-defeating system; if she likes the way I am acting, then she won’t like me when I am myself. Worse yet, if she doesn’t, she may never get to actually meet the real me. I still live this pattern to a lesser degree today.

So, after six months, all of my friends were sick of me talking but not acting, while adoring and admiring Beth from afar. They pushed and poked me to finally ask her out. It was a Monday night when I made the decision to go for it. I listened to nothing during the meeting; my mind was consumed with fear and doubt. I knew she would say no, I just knew it. Why would she say yes? Beth was talented, smart, popular, fun, genuinely gorgeous, loved by family and friends, good job, finishing school and a joy to be around. Beth was the perfect woman for me.

After the meeting, in noticed she was helping clean up, so I joined the clean-up crew. I was patient as the room cleared. Finally, it was just Beth and I. No more stalling, time to step up! I looked her in the eyes, trembling, and went for it.
“Beth, would you like to go out on a date?” I cringed and braced for the rejection.
She then responded as natural and casual as can be, “Sure”.
I panicked; I never made a plan that included her saying yes.
We then awkwardly made plans to go out a week from next Saturday; she would be out of town the upcoming weekend.

She handed me a piece of stationary that said Expect A Miracle across the top and below she had written Beth followed by her phone number. We said good-bye, hugged and walked out together.
Expect A Miracle, it just happened: Beth said YES.

The following Monday night we had some casual conversation about our weekends and then she said, “Instead of waiting till Saturday, how about we go to the Diner and scoff down some food tonight?” Oh shit, tonight? Now? I was not ready, I did not prepare. “That would be great” I was able to squeak out. We left together in separate cars.

The five-minute ride both took forever and went by in a flash. We walked in together and I was nervous, real nervous. I think she could tell, or maybe not. I was always nervous around her, like all attractive women.

We asst down, talked about food and what to order, followed by meaningless conversation to kill airtime. It was what we needed to do to work through the awkwardness, now that we were on a “date”. Is it like this for everyone?

The food came; we started eating and talking. Fortunately, she did most of the talking.

At some point, I mentally faded out of the conversation and into my head. I remember thinking, “WOW! My life has really changed. I am out with Beth! Beth! She’s gorgeous, intelligent, fun, warm, loving, honest, popular, a good person, everybody loves her, good relationships with her family, good job and going back to school. She is perfect! How did this happen?” Then I faded back into the conversation. I flinched realizing what I had just done. Did she notice? Did I look like an idiot? Then what I heard floored me:

“I’m fat, ugly, no friends, nobody likes me, my family hates me, stupid, failing school, worthless job and I have been thinking about suicide a lot lately.”

What did I just here? I quickly switched out of my own head to Beth and her needs. We talked for several hours, till she felt better. We hugged, said good-bye and walked out together again.

My ride home was filled with questions, lots of questions. The one that was the loudest and most forceful was, “If Beth is so attractive and she thinks she is fat and ugly, maybe I am not ugly. Maybe I have been wrong all these years. Maybe.”

When I arrived home, I skipped telling everyone about my night with Beth; I scurried directly to my room. I took off my clothes and looked into the mirror. And there it was. I wasn’t ugly. I did not make the leap to good-looking. Not ugly was a huge step for me. That was the last time I ever saw myself as ugly. I have been either somewhere from average to good-looking since.

Besides opening my eyes to the fact that I was not ugly, I learned a valuable lesson. Our inner chatter can lie, and usually for the worse. We buy the lies because we don’t accept the evidence that contradicts these negative voices. We create a self-image that may not resemble the Truth even remotely. We live a lie; not even knowing it is based on nothing but fear and deception. I actually got better looking from that night further. It was not just my perception that had changed, but my face, body and presentation of self were now altered by that perception. And from these physical changes, women found me more attractive. Their attraction provided evidence to support my newfound appreciation of my looks. The relationship between the inner, outer and interactions with women now all fed each other. The ugly guy became the average guy that grew into the above average guy. In fact, the ego started inserting a new lie, “You are the best looking guy”. This phase did not last long. It eventually landed at where I am typically today; I am not ugly, nor a model- I am somewhere from average to above average, AND THAT IS OK. The same ego that lies and tells us we are ugly will then lie and tell us we are “it”.

Humility is being right size- not too big, not too small. I wonder if any of this would have manifested if Beth didn’t share her self-loathing and suicidal thoughts that night? Would I still be walking around thinking I was an ugly guy?

As for Beth, she needed time and space to get her self back together. I eventually introduced her to a friend; they fell in love and got married. They were perfect for each other. We stayed in touch for a while. I am still grateful for Beth and that night she altered my perception forever. Thank you Beth…