Connections

I read a book when I was fifteen called "Who's Been Sitting in My Chair?" by Charlotte Armstrong.  It caught my imagination, and has held it ever since.  The story centered around a radio disk jockey who worked the night shift, and while he was at the station doing his job someone would come into his apartment, sit in his chair and listen to him on the radio.  It was a suspense mystery, very well written, and I loved it.  What caught and held my attention, though, was the idea that while most people are in bed asleep during the night, others are awake, going about their business, and we never even know it.

That thought intrigued me so much that I found myself wondering about those other people at night before I went to sleep, and sometimes woke up in the middle of the night with them on my mind.  My bedroom window looked out over our front yard, toward the street.  We had planter boxes along the front of the house, planted with bougainvillea, hibiscus, and flowers.  My window was framed with bushes on either side.  I used to open the window at night, climb out and sit in the window frame, and dream.  The bushes on either side helped to create a sort of leafy picture frame for me to sit in and watch the night go by.  To me, it seemed very exotic and mysterious. It was usually very quiet and dark on our street, but I could hear the sounds of traffic on the main street a block away, and I would wonder why those people where awake, and where they were going.  How I used to wish I was out there in the night, going somewhere exciting, too.

The hero in my book tried to help his night time listeners feel connected, assuring them that they were not alone.  The book opened my eyes, too, and made me think.  I copied paragraphs from the story into my journal, never wanting to forget those new ideas. 

For example"
"Now I want to explain this once more.  I want to explain that you've got connections.  You look around.  Lots of other people around.  You got to know that.  Then you can see the connections.  So what do you know about the person on the other side of the wall?  One thing, he's human.  So turn your volume low or you'll disturb him."

Another favorite part of the story was when the hero tried to help his girl understand that her step-mother was a real human being, too, with feelings and problems just like her.  He suggested that if his girl-friend met her step mother on mars, she'd probably be glad to see her.  

The quote I liked best from the book was this:

"For the loneliest people there are.  Those who don't love anybody else.  How can they?  They honestly don't know anybody else is alive."

Fifteen is a pretty strange age.  It's a time of growing up, learning new ideas, seeing the world from new eyes, and trying to figure out where we fit in the whole scheme of things.  Reading this book, and many others, shaped and formed me, along with my mom and dad and teachers and friends.  Thank goodness for good books.