If you Want to Grow, go Dancing
“Peculiar travel suggestions are dancing lessons from God”.
Let’s talk about papillae. More specifically, the papillae feeding hair follicles, thereby inspiring growth.
It is fair to say that without papillae, there would be no hair.
You see, at the base of every hair, just below the follicle, is a small mass of capillaries feeding the follicle the sweet, sweet hemoglobin essential for healthy growth.
I contend that personal growth, professional growth, mental growth, and the like are fed by…
…Peopillae
As a writer who is a human person, I am fed by the people around me. Listen, we can’t all be at the forefront of the latest hot topic. But we can and should write stories that people (even if it’s only ONE person) can connect with/relate to.
For why write if not to share more deeply in the human experience?
I’ll demonstrate this concept by explaining some “peopilla” who have recently fed my growth. It all started with the 100,000 or so follicles in my daughter, Quinn’s scalp. Having performed their function expeditiously, some more so than others, a trimming /evening out was in order. Her mother normally takes her but asked if I would like to do it (I should add that she offered to pay). What did I have to lose? Summer break had just started, so I had no commitments. To boot, I was deep in the throes of a writing slump and needed an experience to relate to others.
Mizzica & Archimedes
So, with the optimism and sunny disposition of a dog at walk time, we set out for Big Apple Salons — a consortium of vendors of beauty and purveyors of pizazz of which “Mizzica”, one of many subdivisions, was our destination.
This is a good time to introduce the first of the peopillae. Sam is the husband of the stylist proprietor of Mizzica. Sam is Sicilian. Sam is bilingual. Sam is a student of history. Sam offered me a Coke. Sam didn’t have any coke. Sam offered me a Dr.Pepper instead. Sam is a human papilla.
Quinn went in for her haircut, Sam and I spoke of this and that. Sam, the peopilla, fed the following sweet, sweet knowledge into the throbbing follicle that is my brain -
- Sicily has its own distinct language — not just a dialect of Italian.
- Come to find Sicilian has taken elements from the Semitic languages of Carthage (notably Phoenician and Punic), Greek, Latin, Arabic, French, Provençal, German, Catalan, and Spanish.
- Archimedes saved Sicily from a Roman invasion by using mirrors to focus beams of sunlight on the approaching ships, setting them ablaze or blinding the crew.
- “Mizzica” is the Sicilian equivalent to “OH WOW!”
In essence, Sam became the peopilla feeding the follicle that is my pen. That makes the story you are reading, rear deader, a hair.
Manuel
A throbbing, engorged peopilla was cutting hair in the “style cubby” right next to my new friends at “Mizzica”.
Listen, I’m a licensed schoolteacher. I first dawned my teacher’s cap in 2006. I played for the eighth-grade US history team. As long ago as that was, there are a handful of students that I’ll never forget. Like Jasmine, fresh from Minnesoh-ta. Before every break I’d ask her where she was going, knowing she’d say “Minnesoh-ta” with that delightful northern lilt. Invariably, she’d give that response. Then I’d ask “what state is west of Minnesota” She’d smirk, she was a good sport, and reply “North Dakoh-ta”. We’d chuckle merrily. Finally, I’d ask “and what state is south of North Dakota?” (What? US geography is a big part of the US history curriculum. I was doing my job!) A bigger smirk and a chortle followed by “South Dakoh-ta”. There was Matt, the first student I ever wrote up. I can’t forget Cristian, the kid who always asked why such and such country “had a beef” with this or that country.
Then there’s Manuel.
For almost 10 months, this young man did nothing but occupy space for 90 minutes every other day in my classroom.
He was present in the classroom the way a COD player is actually in Afghanistan or WWII Europe — he could give a vague explanation as to where he was and why he was there, but he was never actually there.
Skip forward to 2021. Like my daughter before me, the papillae in my scalp have labored to produce a rat’s nest atop my skullcap. So, contrary to my experience of Manuel’s work ethic, I sought this young man's scissors to bring order to my dome.
I kid you not, precious reader, my head became his canvas, the clippers and scissors were his brushes. He made up for all the time he spent doing nothing by using a straight razor to essentially detail my hairline.
Not only did he restore order to my dome, but he also helped me return to a simpler time in my life. What’s more, I got to meet the once fatuous boy who had grown into a perilously upright young man despite his best efforts.
In closing, the quote in the subtitle is from the novelist Kurt Vonnegut. To me, he is suggesting that an opportunity to go someplace new and meet new people, is a chance for betterment. However, one needs to be open to impromptu “dancing lessons”.
There’s a sprawling couch in the common area of Big Apple Salons, and I have lots of games on my phone (and Facebook, the Medium app, Twitter, etc.). Would I have seen Manuel if I plopped down on the couch and played a triple word score on Words with Friends? Would I have learned about the sociopolitical complexities of the Sicilian language if I stopped to check the status of my uncle as he drools over a brown leather toilet made up like a Lazy Boy?
Now think like a dog about to go on a walk and get out and dance! At the very least, go get a haircut. There might be inspiration in the next booth.
