my mother once interviewed a man who could not contain his excitement. he visibly fidgeted and even had trouble catching his breath at times as the laborious work of performing the interview proceeded.
the source of his excitement? a Luby’s Cafeteria was opening up nearby, the first Luby’s ever in Tampa, and a well-publicized “GRAND OPENING” to boot.
my mother described this excitement as curious, if charmingly pathetic.
i think of that guy once in a while, such as when conversations with friends turns to detailed histories of what businesses formerly occupied the space occupied today by, say, a yogurt shop or a walgreen’s. these conversations interest me on a deep level but observers might think us savants of some sort for our encyclopedic knowledge of every business that ever occupied a building or a space.
i thought of the Luby’s enthusiast as i left my apartment a few minutes ago. i muttered to myself “I can’t wait to get to the Starbucks.” i was not jumping up and down or antsing in my pantsing but i had a momentary flush of enthusiasm for leaving one space and arriving in the covered walls of a coffee shop. i really couldn’t wait to get here, and now that i am here my engagement in the experience and my enthusiasm for being here is unabated. this is really great.
my mother was a social worker and interviewed people as part of the job. she sometimes recounted these interviews to me in almost obscene detail, reliving every word and every gesture, every facial tic and show of nervousness, these descriptions not just of the subjects being interviewed but of herself as well. sometimes she expanded the genre of recounting her day by including the substance of overheard telephone conversations, miscommunications among stranger and/or co-workers, and unspoken grievances she held against employers, distant family members, and food delivery personnel. for all that the only interview i seem to remember today is the Luby’s guy. maybe i was the Luby’s guy, am the Luby’s guy, maybe she told me this story which was actually fictional to subtly impress upon me that my enthusiasms are sometimes inappropriate or strange.
or maybe i am not the Luby’s guy.
