COLUMN: Waking up the Devil

From Jamil Smith's "Invisible Man," Fall '94 From Jamil Smith's "Invisible Man," Fall '94Play this game with me. Any thoughts of whatever you have to do tonight, get rid of them now. Now here is where I want you to think. First, I need you to close your eyes for 10 seconds, whether you're at lunch, walking down Locust Walk, or in class. Now, think about what is most important to you. If you were free falling without a parachute, what would the first thing in your life that you would think about? Go ahead. Open your eyes. What was it that came into your head? Let me guess. I'll bet money that it wasn't your extreme desire for "free speech" at the University, randomized housing for incoming freshmen, the Commission on Strengthening the Community's report, the College's departmental cuts, or even about how cold everyone thinks it is outside. I played this very game myself, recently. As I was leaving for a discussion forum, I saw on TV that there had been a major earthquake in Los Angeles. It immediately caught my attention because I feared for my ex-girlfriend, Carolyn, who is a student at UCLA. I tried to put it out of my mind, but, of course, it was impossible. I sat at lunch, holding up the white silk curtain of cheerfulness to my friends. But of course, one can see through that curtain without much trouble and as soon as the topic was brought up, a sickly look came over my face as I did my reality check. The thought of seeing the only girl I have ever loved disappear from my life forever plagued my brain so much that my head hurt. That was when I began to consider what was really important in my life. As did my mental free fall, I was only thinking about one thing. Only one thing really mattered to me – the people I loved and who loved me. A man in Los Angeles reportedly said the earthquake felt like "the devil was waking up." A devil woke up in Philadelphia that day, too. It was the devil which controls my deepest fears, which let me know that day exactly what could be taken away from me. All of a sudden, I couldn't give a damn about some B- I got in Psych 1 last semester, the ice on Locust Walk, how much money I had in the bank or whether the Indians have a winning season this year. I thought about being able to show my stellar grades for the spring semester to my parents and grandparents. I thought about helping my mother by shoveling several inches of snow in my driveway at home. I thought about how as a child, a simple five-dollar bill and a handshake from my great-grandfather meant so much. I thought about treating my father to an Indians game in the new Gateway stadium on Father's Day (yes, Dad, I said it – I'll do it). It is a shame that it took a drastic event such as an earthquake to wake me up and think about what I have to lose. It is also a shame that it takes a drastic event or crisis to unite people. Like me, the campus was shaken in October when our beloved DuBois College House was issued several harassing calls and a bomb threat. Much like my reality check, I remember a lot of people, some even who criticize the House as "separatist" (don't get me started), feeling saddened and angered about the situation. The problem was addressed with an absolutely pitiful cartoon on this very Page Six, a statement from the Administration and a call trace system. Then, according to human nature, everyone forgot. When I bring up the event now, I often have to remind people that it even happened. The common response is, "What was that? When did that happen...Oh, now I remember. Gee, I'm really sorry about that." Gee, thanks. I appreciate it when honestly ignorant people like those express their sympathy, but it is the people who seemed so sympathetic at first, forgot, and went back to criticizing the residents of DuBois House as separatists like nothing had ever left their mouths. Oh, well. I guess you can't expect anything more from adults. Unlike these people, I will never allow myself to forget what the drastic event arose in my distracted mind. I will think even more about people I call Tiona, Angela, Carolyn, Jessica Aziza, Grandma, Granddad, Mom, and Dad and even less about those I call Dr., Miss, Sir, Ma'am, and Professor. The mistake I have made all of my life is to take my family and friends for granted and direct my attention to issues that, in the whole scheme of things, meant nothing. My cousin's passing away a little over three years ago woke me up then, but I recovered as much as possible and, in a sense, forgot. However, last Monday I remembered again. I was recollected the pain of loss. And I found what really is most important. So think again of what popped into your head when you began reading this column. Was it really "free speech?" Or diversity on Locust Walk? Or how cold it is? Or did you think about the times when your dad saw you hit your first home run in Little League, or when your mother was so proud when she dressed you up for your first day of kindergarten? If you did, you can join me in traveling daily with our memories to a place that our private devils truly fear. Jamil Smith is a freshman English and History major from Cleveland, Ohio. Invisible Man appears alternate Thursdays.