The Invisible Man

Each summer on the road I assign myself some new reading, choosing an author such as Steinbeck or Dostoyevski (ugh - never again) or a genre like journey stories such as Travels with Charley, The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test, On the Road, The Dharma Bums, & Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.

This year as a bit of a lark I decided to read the classic horror stories of the 19th century - including Dracula, Frankenstein, The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde, The Phantom of the Opera, The Picture of Dorian Gray, and The Invisble Man among others. It was this last one, The Invisible Man by H.G. Wells, that got to me thinking during my current long ride.

The story is bascially about a scientist who figures out how to refract light in a particular way to mke himself invisible; the problem is that he cannot reverse the process and goes mad. It's that last part that got me to thinking: How many of us would, or have, gone mad because we feel ourselves "invisible", that is, without any sort of authentic corporeality in the world?

I think of the young men of Columbine, who were "invisible" except as objects of scorn. I think of those who have lost jobs and the experience of invisiblity which drives them mad, that is to extremes of behavior, usually sociopathic in form. I think of times in my own life when others have treated me as virtually invisible, and the anger and hurt I felt.

I wonder how often I have treated others as invisible, as not worth my time and effort. I think of the literally hundreds of people with whom I interact on the road - do I treat them as invisible? And what gift I can give to them by treating them as visible, as real people with real feelings and real needs, especially the need to be treated as a real person. A little kindness, a please and thank you, a smile, a door held ... each of these small actions tells them that I see them, that they exist to me, that they have some meaning, however small and momentary, in the world.

It seems such a small thing, to see and be seen. But perhaps these small acts can save the sanity of another, not to mention ourselves: "For when you have done it to the least of these my brothers, you have done it to me also."