At one point the concept arrived. The world of America devoted so much time and instinctual development to fondling the celebrated few who, regardless of situational recognition, remained strangers. This is a fact lost on the endless websites caressing fame and nurturing those rising to its calculated meanings. I’d seen the other side, the lost side, so often, that this other side became, to some extent, famous to me. My old man said I’d ridden on the wrong end of the train car. But he was wrong. I’d ridden with the anonymous and I’d enjoyed it. Celebrity provided no comfort, wealth manipulated ideologies, power fueled corruption. And none of that changed the fact that when offered a chance at some kind of self affirming recognition for my charms, I leaned into it. Back to the trains, then, the anonymous straphangers providing needles for ballooning self importance.
by Hank Cherry