You’ve probably heard of the “eyes in the back of your head� theory. My mother had them when I was growing up, along with incredibly acute hearing, which I inherited when I became a mother. From another room you hear the command: “Put that down before you break it,� or “No cookies before dinner.� This gift is the reason that many mothers know what you think they never knew, which you only find out years later that they DO know, but luckily it’s long past the time for reprimand and, thankfully, appropriate punishment!
Mothers or not, some of us are in a constant state of vigilant alertness possessing super observational powers. You know who you are: You know when something’s been moved anywhere in the room no matter how subtle or small. You see change and sense nuances and often can’t believe that the people who work with you or live with you haven’t noticed or acknowledged them. I would guess that this constant state of awareness is a double-edged sword for many people. With it comes an inherent responsibility to mentally catalog what you see and hear, which once done, cannot be denied.
I, for one, would occasionally like to enjoy a state of oblivion! Wouldn’t it be nice to not even see that empty can or wrapper on the ground, or the piece of cardboard someone inadvertently lost on their way to the local transfer station? I’d like to drive by the multiple newspaper pages caught by wind now skipping down the sidewalk, plastered against a building or a pole; or be able to step over the lone tissue dropped in the theater lobby or parking lot.
But that is not to be, as the wave of conscientiousness forces me to hesitate and the conversation begins. The voice on my right argues with the voice on my left: “It’s not yours! You didn’t do it! Don’t pick that up-it’s dirty! You’re in a hurry! It’s too dangerous to stop here. It’s not your job!� Someone else will eventually get it, the voice insists. But the voice on the left counters: “ Who cares how it got there? If not you, who then? There’s no time like the present. Do your part. We’re all in this together. If you’re not part of the solution, you’re part of the problem. Set an example.�
So I stop on my walk to retrieve the can or wrapper. I use my pocketed tissue to collect the stray tissue. I turn the car around and I cram the wet cardboard in my car, and I run after the newspaper pages trying to escape me, feeling somewhat foolish when observed. I sometimes embarrass the people I’m with, and frequently have to explain my rationale.
Maybe it isn’t my job, but I’m happy to do it. This job is open to all of us. No application or interview required; success guaranteed. Welcome!
Sandy Gomez is an entrepreneur and care manager as well as a lifelong resident of Salisbury.
