Tan Man
was at a street fair on Lincoln Avenue in Chicago. I was there to see
my friend Dave's girlfriend's band. I went with my buddy Gregg. We got
there early so I had time to get a burger and some corn-on-the-cob.
Gregg had a burger as well.
The burgers were pretty good; they had that unique, fresh-off-the-grill taste that you can only really get from a burger that's fresh-off-the-grill. The corn-on-the-cob sucked. Tough and tasteless. But hey, that's a chance you take whenever you eat corn-on-the-cob.
Anyway, we finished eating and wandered down to the stage where the band was about to start playing. On the way we ran into another friend of mine named Jim. Jim's one of those kind of friends I have whom I call friend even though I don't really know him all that well. I used to work with him but we haven't really hung out all that often. Nonetheless, I think it's obvious that our senses of humor and personalities mesh pretty well and I think all that separates us from being pretty good friends is a little time and effort getting to know one another.
The band started playing and they were pretty good (although Dave thought the P.A. sucked.) It was kind of a weird scene though. The band was not at all a major deal at the fair. There were always a bunch of people standing around and watching and listening, but there were a good many people walking by too. All of the people watching were standing in a sort of flat horseshoe with its round end pointing away from the middle of the stage forming a big mostly empty space, about fifty feet at its deepest, right in front of the stage.
People coming into and leaving the fair, many of whom were not at all interested in the band, were walking right through this empty space constantly. A good many children and a few adults went running right by the front of the stage with their hands very obviously covering their ears. Being a musician myself, I imagined that this must be pretty disconcerting for the band.
They were real troopers though, and they rocked right through it. I was having a pretty good time; the music, the sun, the people. I sort of half-noticed this guy who came and stood a little ways in front and to the right of me. I noticed him first because he was older looking than most of the people actually listening to the band. Most of the people around me were in their mid-20's to mid-30's. This guy was in his mid-40's, looked like.
The second thing I noticed about him was his clothes. He was dressed from head to toe in khaki. Khaki hat, khaki shirt, khaki shorts, khaki socks, even khaki shoes. He looked pretty weird, but he also looked like he was really having a pretty good time. He was smiling, sort of nodding his head and snapping his fingers. Yeah, I thought approvingly, the tan man's just getting his groove on. And that was all I really thought I needed to think about the tan man right then.
The music continued, accompanied of course by the sun and the people. I started getting thirsty and was thinking about getting a Snapple. Suddenly, this squeaky, teenage-girl voice jumps out from just behind my left elbow. Look at him! she said quite loudly. At first I didn't know who she was talking about and mostly just ignored her. Yeah, look at that guy! her friend chimed in. Look at his clothes!
At this point it dawned on me that they were quite possibly referring to my new friend, the tan man. They were definitely talking loud enough for him to hear and I was ardently hoping that he didn't realize they were talking about him. I figured that if that was just the way he dressed, maybe it wouldn't even occur to him that he was the subject of the girls' screeching.
He's wearing all tan! one of them said. Uh-oh. Yeah, her friend replied, tan! Oh boy. He had to know now. I felt almost paralyzed. I couldn't turn around and look at the girls. I couldn't look directly at the tan man. I was trapped directly in the middle of this confrontation. Look at him! one cried. He's snapping! You don't snap, you clap! At this the tan man kind of ventured a glance over his shoulder, a sort of sad half-smile on his face.
The girls suddenly brushed by me, arm-in-arm with a teenage boy in the middle. They couldn't have been more than fourteen. They were making a bee-line for the tan man. Oh man, I thought forcefully, why don't you just leave the guy alone? they marched right up to him, snapped their fingers at him and burst out laughing. He didn't say anything, just had that same, sad half-smile. The three kids laughed for a bit and then marched off, their job done.
The tan man was still sort of unconsciously bopping his head to the music a bit, still half-heartedly snapping his fingers. He kept that up for a few minutes. Then he stole a quick glance around and resignedly walked away.
I took what felt like the first breath I'd taken since the whole thing began. I'd been almost literally smothered with embarrassment; embarrassment for the tan man, embarrassment for the girls and the ignorance of youth, embarrassment for myself in the role of unwitting voyeur. I was embarrassed for people in general; for our entire funny, idiosyncratic, monkey-brained race.
As often happens when I have a particularly unique experience, a clich� popped into my head. Children can be so cruel, a June Cleaverish voice spoke in my mind. It's cruelty, I thought, but cruelty of a different flavor than the adult variety. It is cruelty born more I think, of ignorance than intention.
If those girls had been able to see what I saw when I looked at the tan man, if they had been able to see that it's really pretty great that a guy who appears so obviously different than me can have a good time in the same place, in the same way as I do, at least he could have had a good time, would they have done what they did? Would they have found it funny at all?
An yet I was young once; many would say I'm young still. I remember a time when I took the great, simple truths and pleasures for granted. When I had so little experience for comparison that all new experiences seemed equally exciting regardless of their quality. The trick then was just doing something, not doing it well.
But, of course, the saving grace of children is that they usually grow up, at least somewhat. And I'll bet that most eventually have a similar experience to the one I described here. A sort of watermark experience in their life where they realize they're no longer on the same side of the fence they've been on for so long. They're no longer even straddling it as they realize they've been doing for quite a while. They're firmly planted on the other side. And they've got they're clich�s, their enjoyment of simple pleasures; they've got insight and empathy with other people.
By the time I'd gone to bed that night, I'd forgotten all about the tan man, and I haven't thought of him since until tonight, when I jumped out of bed to write all this down.
Back to the archive 
Return to.... SSC