Off the Cuff / My Other Journal

A Small Part of the World

Fires, floods, plane crashes and murders, terrorists, do-gooders, politicians, liars, lawyers, East, West, North, South, different continents, seas, oceans, men, women, children, globalization, prejudice, treaty, war...this world is a tour of disaster and joy.

They say, "Don't try to understand the whole world at once. Take only a small part of it."

So I took as small a part of the world as I could take: The Treasure Coast Square Mall at Jensen Beach, Florida. I walked around the food court, big stores, small stores, kiosks in the middle that give the place the aura of a white elephant sale, the pedicure joint emanating nose-wrenching odors that chase me away from entering Borders next door, Cell Phone venders, a dollar store, Zales displaying its not so pricey jewelry due to the fact that the main store is going through a renovation (good stuff must be hiding in a safe somewhere while the sales is in front of the store in a boxlike place), health food and vitamin stores, Radio Shack, Abby of London photographers, Coach bags, Victoria’s Secret, which is bound to put on view whatever it is that should be secret, and the fancy coffee sellers.

Through all this and the choo choo train of the kiddies, for me, the most interesting scenes were the women who used their hands as ladles to stir the contents of their purses and handbags, searching for that one elusive item, whatever it may be, their car keys, cards, or something to quiet the kiddies with.

I watched their motions with complete comprehension.

Some women lifted a leg and rested the purse on the leg as they searched. Others added frowns, stuck out tongues, and wrinkled noses to the dance. Still others cursed and muttered under their breaths. One person decided on the method of elimination and gave her items one by one to her husband as if he were the cloak room.

A few hunted for a flat stable place to lean on as they rummaged inside their Ali Baba’s cave. Others went for a flat surface like a store counter to position their bags. One emptied all the contents on a bench until her bag looked like an deflated vessel. Among the numerous contents I espied a flask, a styrofoam cup and a part of what looked like a bagel.

I assume most women were looking for a credit card that slipped from a wallet. And they all disemboweled their life stories as they stirred their sacks, backpacks, handbags, shoulder bags, hobo bags, slings, and totes.

So I stirred mine also, acting as if I wasn’t hearing my curious hubby’s, “What are you up to?” line of questioning. He never understands that I want to follow the pack, so I don’t bother to explain.

I fished out two WC pens, one WC pencil, my sunglasses in their case, my wallet, my money purse, a pack of Dentyne Ice sugarless peppermint gum, my medicine cabinet in a zippered bag, an empty plastic bag just in case, comb, checkbook with the appointment calendar, a tiny notepad, a WC journal, a pocket pack of Kleenex, eyeglass repair kit with a magnifier, few customer copy versions of checks from Dolphin Bar, a pack of Prilosec, a tiny bottle of Excedrin, earplugs, and car keys. A few crumbled pieces of paper lined the bottom, but I didn’t bother with them.

Thus I smiled triumphantly, for here was another part of a small world, a very small one, considering this bag is among the smaller ones that I carry.