We're only human . . .

Saturday. Sofa. Coffee.

Wow.  This morning is perfect. Cool. Sunny. No massive lightning displays.  Most of the flooding has subsided, except that apparently my roof is leaking a little bit, evidenced by a small puddle of water in the hall.  I will have to pick up a few limbs out of the yard later before I mow, but I need the exercise. Of course I can't get to outside chores until I load the dishwasher and do the laundry. I need to go to the grocery and drug store. But I can't do that any of that until I sit on the sofa and drink some more coffee. At some point I will brush my teeth and groom and do other necessary things.

This week  I spent considerable time watching  TV.   I watched the Olympics a lot, far more  than I had time for. In addition to the games there were the side stories about British Royalty since the Olympics were held in their backyard. And Rafalka.  Then there were the  highlights of the Mars landing of Curiosity and the reactions of the folks that got it there. I watched the continuing saga of Chick Fil A and gay rights.  And of course there was the ever present politics on the cable news channels and Comedy Central when they weren't preempted by the games.  Or more accurately, the other games. And I saw two movies, The Dark Knight Rises and The Campaign.

Perhaps this explains why I've got so much to do today.

So my week was filled with watching the lives of bigger-than-my-life characters.

Considering my life and days I wonder about these bigger than life characters.  Do they have mornings when they sit on the sofa in their boxers, drinking coffee and breakfasting on popcorn left on the coffee table from a day or two before?  Do they know how to load their dishwasher so that the tops of the glasses don't have a Cascade residue after they dry?  Do they wonder how a two foot high weed suddenly grew up in the middle of their driveway?  Do they spend part of their Saturday trying to find where the roof is leaking?  Do they occasionally forget to buy new toothpaste and end up sucking the toothpaste tube to get the last bit for the final brushing?

Do they ever go to the bathroom?

Okay, that's a little gross, but it makes my point pretty well, I think.

Everyone I watched and followed this week is human, except Rafalka, and that horse dances better than most of us. Anyway, sometimes I wonder about the real lives of our celebrities.  We keep them in their spotlights.  But you know they have to come down from the stage sometimes to take care of business.

Michael Phelps addressed this in a real way last week. He told the Wall Street Journal that competitive swimmers pee in the pool, since they don't have time, during training, to get out and go to the bathroom.  Fortunately most six year olds won't be reading the Wall Street Journal.

Mitt Romney also tried to set my mind at ease this week.  He went to the Hardware Store. By himself. When asked what he bought, he replied, "hardware stuff."  Then he went to the grocery store.  By himself.  He bought an ear or two of corn and wasn't sure whether to get a cart or a basket.

Not completely unlike me later today, except for the video crew that was filming his outing for public release and the security detail assigned to him.  The only security and video involved in my outing will be the little camera aimed at the check out counter at the store to prevent me from shoplifting or writing a bogus check.   But still, it's sort of the same.

It's easy to forget that we are human, all of us (except Rafalka).

Especially when we get to know people in two dimensions.  No depth. No context.  It is easy to believe that we know people because we see them on a flat screen for a few seconds or minutes, or read someone else's opinion about who they are or what they've done. The spotlight is bright, after all.

And it is easy to be mean, because, despite what Captain Kangaroo or Grandfather Clock told us, as grown ups we know that they cannot hear us when we say mean, judgmental things about them back at the TV screen .  .  . or on facebook, or around the coffee table at McDonald's.

So that makes it okay.

But what if Mitt Romney was drinking coffee with me this morning (after I cleared him off a space on the sofa)?   Or President Obama was eating a sausage biscuit around the coffee drinking table at Jack's?

Or what if a friend sitting next to you in church told you he or she was gay?

The spotlight is only a few feet wide.  And there are shadows all around it where nothing is revealed,  shadows created by the spotlight itself, shadows that are cast and fall behind the person in the spotlight, for sure, but huge, endless shadows that fall outside the spotlight's dimension.

Maybe we fool ourselves into thinking the small circle of white light reveals everything we need to know, that there is nothing outside its illumination.

But that tiny circle is so small in comparison to the darkness of our ignorance.

Sometimes we are critical of each other for making fun, making fun of Mitt Romney's staged shopping trips, his dancing horse, or his car elevator, or President Obama's method of eating ice cream, his need to burst into an Al Green tune,  or even his efforts to quit smoking.  Of Boehner's propensity to cry and his fake tan. Of Harry Reid's exciting demeanor.  Of the unique problems of gayness and straightness.

Of course we shouldn't be cruel or mean.

But I'm not sure we are really making fun.

We just need them to be human.

And I am sure that outside the spotlight, we all really  are.

Except Rafalka.