Sentimentality and Stormtroopers
Back in the early 90's I lived in Minneapolis, a half mile east of Lake of the Isles. Almost every day after work I jogged over to the running path that circled it, occasionally looping south to connect with its sister lakes, Calhoun and Harriet. These lakes, and the mass of humanity that are drawn daily to them, are still my three favorite places in the Twin Cities.
I haven't lived in Minneapolis for almost 20 years, having bounced between its northern suburbs and St. Paul since 1994. But fortunately, Isles, Calhoun and Harriet have remained unchanged with time - as are people's reasons for enjoying them. Some - like me - use them for exercise, primarily running and biking. Others use them as gathering places; to picnic, to play, to swim or be seen. The great majority, however, walk - either alone or with a partner.
Two Sundays ago I made the trek to Lake Harriet for a lap or two. Harriet is the most popular of the three lakes on Sundays because its bandshell hosts free weekend concerts, plays and movies from May through September. Nonetheless, I was there to run, quickly scooting by the crowds and heading in my usual direction clockwise around the lake.
And that's when I saw him walking.
Typically when I run the Lakes, my head is on a swivel because there is so much to see. But I always expect to see the same things. Not this particular Sunday. I was running on the inner, narrow dirt path when I came upon him. This grown man was dressed head to toe as an Imperial Stormtrooper. A huge smile broke out across my face for a variety of reasons. I'm a Star Wars fan, the outfit was top-notch (straight from George Lucas' wardrobe department), and the fact that this guy had the balls to walk alone in full costume for no other reason than he wanted to. Does his drum beat a bit differently from most? Certainly. But he was making himself, and every one else who saw him, happy. Yes, some people probably laughed, but even that was a better reaction than none at all. Because I couldn't let the moment pass unspoken, I emphatically told him as I passed by, "You look fucking awesome!"
And to my complete surprise and joy, I saw him on Harriet again the following Sunday (apparently he still hadn't found the droids he was looking for).
A stormtrooper walking around a Minneapolis lake (or anywhere else in public) is rare. But the most common sight to see isn't exceptional at all. Pairs - in all colors, varieties and ages (whether they be friends or lovers) - are everywhere on the lakes, at all times. A few nights ago at Lake Calhoun was no different.
I pay little attention to twosomes on the lakes walking my way; a quick glance, nothing more. Friendships are easy to identify - laughing, easy conversation between them. Couples stick out too, all in varying stages of their relationship - chatty or quiet, affectionate or distant, present or with thoughts far away. Age often runs a parallel course with each duo's level of engagement. One particular couple I passed by fit this pattern as snugly as their interlocked hands. And even though I saw them for only a moment, my thoughts stayed on them for the rest of the run.
I'm certain the first word her friends use to describe her is sweet. I could tell that in an instant. She was the kind of young woman who makes a person smile before they are aware of it themselves. He wasn't much taller than her, and she was only a few inches over five feet. Perhaps this is what made them look so young. At most, they were 24. His friends universally describe him as a good guy. Towards her, he seemed caring and attentive. And even though there were hundreds of people circling Lake Calhoun at the time, these two were oblivious of everyone but each other.
The feeling of happiness for them that washed over me was immediately followed by sadness. Undoubtedly, their relationship was still very new - that unreal stretch of first love when no comparisons can be made. Before, they had no idea they were capable of feeling so much for someone else. But now they know, and its for each other. Everything they do together feels significant; with every interaction they become less and less individuals, more and more extensions of one another.
"They don't know yet," I thought.
They don't know yet that their individualities will reassert themselves, and seek out some level of independence from the "We." Don't know that their own insecurities will remain. Don't know that they won't always be so thoughtful towards each other. Don't know that they will argue about money, and sometimes bitterly so. Don't know that each other's families may frustrate them. Don't know why the feelings they shared in the beginning have dulled over time. Don't know that there will be days when they don't like each other.
I fought off the urge to turn around and alert them of all the things they don't know yet ("Completely normal," I say wild-eyed between breaths). A pre-emptive warning. That would have been more startling than crossing paths with an Imperial Stormtrooper on a Sunday evening at Lake Harriet. Lunatic Warns Young Couple of Hard Road Ahead - being held for observation.
So I kept running. "Not the first or last clueless couple," I figured.
But I'm rooting for them. Perhaps it was simply the hopefulness that filled their faces. Or how happy they looked together. Or how tightly they held each other's hands. Whatever it was, I'm rooting for them to remember how they were in the beginning - during the time when they didn't know yet what was ahead, but were content to move happily towards it together.
As for me, I know where I'll be next Sunday afternoon - at Lake Harriet, happily staking out a stormtrooper.
A stormtrooper walking around a Minneapolis lake (or anywhere else in public) is rare. But the most common sight to see isn't exceptional at all. Pairs - in all colors, varieties and ages (whether they be friends or lovers) - are everywhere on the lakes, at all times. A few nights ago at Lake Calhoun was no different.
I pay little attention to twosomes on the lakes walking my way; a quick glance, nothing more. Friendships are easy to identify - laughing, easy conversation between them. Couples stick out too, all in varying stages of their relationship - chatty or quiet, affectionate or distant, present or with thoughts far away. Age often runs a parallel course with each duo's level of engagement. One particular couple I passed by fit this pattern as snugly as their interlocked hands. And even though I saw them for only a moment, my thoughts stayed on them for the rest of the run.
I'm certain the first word her friends use to describe her is sweet. I could tell that in an instant. She was the kind of young woman who makes a person smile before they are aware of it themselves. He wasn't much taller than her, and she was only a few inches over five feet. Perhaps this is what made them look so young. At most, they were 24. His friends universally describe him as a good guy. Towards her, he seemed caring and attentive. And even though there were hundreds of people circling Lake Calhoun at the time, these two were oblivious of everyone but each other.
The feeling of happiness for them that washed over me was immediately followed by sadness. Undoubtedly, their relationship was still very new - that unreal stretch of first love when no comparisons can be made. Before, they had no idea they were capable of feeling so much for someone else. But now they know, and its for each other. Everything they do together feels significant; with every interaction they become less and less individuals, more and more extensions of one another.
"They don't know yet," I thought.
They don't know yet that their individualities will reassert themselves, and seek out some level of independence from the "We." Don't know that their own insecurities will remain. Don't know that they won't always be so thoughtful towards each other. Don't know that they will argue about money, and sometimes bitterly so. Don't know that each other's families may frustrate them. Don't know why the feelings they shared in the beginning have dulled over time. Don't know that there will be days when they don't like each other.
I fought off the urge to turn around and alert them of all the things they don't know yet ("Completely normal," I say wild-eyed between breaths). A pre-emptive warning. That would have been more startling than crossing paths with an Imperial Stormtrooper on a Sunday evening at Lake Harriet. Lunatic Warns Young Couple of Hard Road Ahead - being held for observation.
So I kept running. "Not the first or last clueless couple," I figured.
But I'm rooting for them. Perhaps it was simply the hopefulness that filled their faces. Or how happy they looked together. Or how tightly they held each other's hands. Whatever it was, I'm rooting for them to remember how they were in the beginning - during the time when they didn't know yet what was ahead, but were content to move happily towards it together.
As for me, I know where I'll be next Sunday afternoon - at Lake Harriet, happily staking out a stormtrooper.
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