Chapter 2

THE WHO BODIES

     Numbered in order of importance were the Who Bodies hanging out as usual downtown.  Number 1 and Number 2 thought of the mean things that they did.  The others followed.  You know “mockingbirds of a feather  flock together.”  They all had life but didn’t really live it except through others, thus the overtly interested “dipping” into the business of others in town.  They prided themselves in knowing all the in things to do, wear or say to be considered a normal one.  Underneath they were afraid of being rejected themselves, so to avoid it, they hoped to remain accepted by finding out all the details of others’ lives, especially their mistakes, then telling whoever listened.

     Number 1 found security in food and at any public moment could be found to have many candy bars hidden under his feathers.  Number r2 and Number 5 had trouble controlling their fists and nasty fist fights occurred rapidly and frequently.  They fought off feeling small.  Number 3 liked to talk big and loudly command the others in a lisping, mumbling speech that would have brought sympathy if it weren’t for his “I’m better than everyone” attitude, which usually was the reason for laughter behind his beck, mainly from Number 4, the clown of the group who interpreted Number 3’s speech.  Number 6 was a fence straddle.  He dropped in to join them until they said or did something that he thought was beneath his values (which were low-life style since he started growing up and trying out what he wanted; although they had been high from home training), then off he’d fly to keep more civil company.  Number 7 and Number 8 would aggressively hit and throw trash at others for no visible reasons.  Their favorite conversation was over what brand of deodorant everyone used.  They were proud of themselves for using a men’s deodorant (even though they weren’t yet men) and wanted anyone who would get trapped into a conversation to know this. 

     “How do you get to be accepted?”  asked Clara.

     “What kind of deodorant do you use?” asked Number 8, as he punched Clara in the shoulder and kicked Warfield’s bottom.  Number 7 threw trash at them.  With head drooped, Clara and Warfield stood still.

     “Meh mee auh geet goo a sports,” mumbled Number 3. 

     Number 4 said, “He said, ‘he got good at sports,’”  Then he wildly started holding out his hand to “give them five” in all sorts of ways while going through a runoff of slang expressions changing his posture and moving his head in the “in coolest” ways of the time.

     “Don’t take nobody’s mess.   You gonna let them do that to you, you a chicken.  Gees, man, I’d hit ‘em if I were you,” demanded Number 2, punching Number 5 to demonstrate as if he were something to be used to meet his needs.  This triggered uncontrolled fist fighting between the two of them.

     Number6 stared curiously at them, not saying anything at first.  Then he said, “Hey, what did you get from the box man?  Your mama let your sisters and brothers get all kind of big money stuff when they were downtown.”  Clara’s hurt returned over the empty box.

     Number 1 spoke up with the most sensible answer.  Strutting and chewing a candy bar that he seemed to pull out from somewhere on his body, he said, “It depends on who you want to accept you.  You’ve got to go to who you want to accept you.”

          For love of them I died.  For love of them I cry.  Little ones, little ones, come into my love.

          For love of them I writhed.  For love of them I sighed. Oh, little ones, oh, little ones, come

          into  my love.

          So much love I offer you silver and gold cannot replace.  So much love inside my heart.

          Come little ones, come for the love I have, nothing else will do.  Come fill your hearts with

          joy, little ones.

          Come to me little ones, the love you leave is for you.  Come to me little ones.  You’ll find

          Your greatest joy in me.  Oh, come to me little ones, acceptance from others cannot

          replace me.  Come to me little ones.  I love you.

          So much love you’ll never know until you come to me, little ones.  More than meets

          your needs.  Come to me little ones.  Let me be your everything.

     Clara and Warfield silently walked on down the street together.  Clara said, “Bye, Warfield.  If I want to go to Heaven, I need God to accept me.  I’m going to the church.  Talk to you later.”  Back then the churches could always be left open for prayer.

          I asked my friend if she’d help me find Jesus.  She said “I heard that He hangs around

          the churches and I heard that He plays with the little children and I heard that He’s

          near to the broken hearted, so I think you’ll find Him in one of those places.”

           I said, “It’s sad that I don’t know what He looks like and I don’t know what His

          voice sounds like.  How will I know Him when I see Him?”   And my friend said,

          “I think you better try.”