The Invisibles

My wife and I went to a charity event in our adopted home town of Scottsdale, AZ (we'll always be Long Islanders)a few years back for an organization that provides services for individuals with developmental and cognitive disabilities and their families. We were greeted by adults with special needs who have worked to take a disability and turn it into a capability.

But it struck me that we focus a lot of attention on children and teenagers with severe issues but when they grow up, they go to the ‘back of the line’ in our awareness. I recall seeing parents when I was a kid, at the Mid-Island Plaza Center, in the late 50’s and early 60’s, cross to the other side when an aging parent was walking with their disabled ‘grown-up,’ as if they would catch the disease or to protect their child from the realities of a sometimes cruel world. A child with a disability is ‘cute,’ an adult is frightening. They are the ‘whisperers.” Those are not my views but I think they are the views of many.

It got me thinking about the ‘invisibles,’ the people who blend in to our daily lives. They see us, they serve us, they help us but we often don’t see them, because it’s safer that way.

At a local breakfast joint I frequent, the table setters swoop in to clean, without uttering a word and people rarely notice them. The same goes for the stackers at the supermarket, the landscapers, the cashiers, sometimes the postal carriers. But we know the names of our baristas, Car dealer, and the hostess of our favorite restaurants.

It’s usually not intentional, we just see the world with blinders. Is it nurture or nature?

When I was in elementary school, growing up on Long Island, my Dad was in school with me one day and I said hello to Joe, the janitor. My father asked: “Joe?!what’s his last time?” I told him “I dunno.” He decided to ask. When my Dad found out, he said: “Good morning, Mr. Crandall. I’m Len Kluger.” He turned to me and said ‘Son, this is Mr. Crandall.” Because he was one of the ‘invisibles,’ I didn’t give him the respect he deserved. But I learned a lesson that day.

When I was in corporate life back in NY, my staffers saw a woman from the IT department outside the building on Broadway. One of them said : “Hi Jean.How’s IT?” I turned and said: “Do you know where Jean is from? Do you know anything about her? Do you even know her last name?” They offered they did not and we proceeded to learn a little more about Jean, and her about us. We chose to make her visible. And it’s always a choice.

I am guilty of some of this myopia. When I stay at a hotel, I tip the bellman, the car attendant but I usually forget to leave something for the housekeeper. I do say ‘good morning’ when I see them in the hallway but, for the most part, they are invisible. And I am ashamed.

I don’t know if it’s an internal class system or we are uncomfortable, but we are all guilty on seeing through people.

Now I realize some may see this as a criticism of people’s values and I guess it is. It’s more of a challenge to be better people, better neighbors, better customers. When we want something from someone, we are nice; when they are there working in the background to make our lives easier, we are oblivious. And we discriminate.

Our society is made up of many people, different jobs, different skills, different challenges and different backgrounds. We claim we are a melting pot and boast that this is what makes America different. But we rarely walk the walk.

I used to say hello to the toll-booth attendant on the New Jersey Turnpike, but I got a grunt. However, up on The Thruway upstate a few weeks back, I said hello and got a surprising hello back. Maybe most of them are not used to people acknowledging them, but I think that may just be New Jersey.lol.

I may not be ready to “buy the world a Coke,”, and chant Cumbaya.but if I stop, and think a moment, people become visible and it sounds like a good place to start.