Thursday, January 12, 2012

I am a closet claustrophobic.


Contemplating Cool

It seems to me there are three issues:
  1. Being intrinsically cool - or conversely, not being cool.
  2. Seeing yourself as cool - or as decidedly uncool.
  3. Acting cool - or with persistent doofosity. 
These 3x2 conditions come in all the possible permutations, a total number I'd know if I weren't so miserable at math. 

The person who is cool and sees himself/herself as cool will almost always act cool. They may have occasional lapses due to lack of sleep or other stressers but by their very bearing they tell everyone around them, "This is what cool looks like."
The person who is cool but insecure is rare, but, like the Red Crested Fitherwalker, is occasionally spotted. They hug the wall, sure they don't quite fit in. They're the ones who assume any failure or misunderstanding was their fault. That is, their behavior usually reflects their self-perception rather than their core coolness. But put them in a setting where they feel completely at ease and that core coolness emerges, and others envy them for it. 

The person who is not cool probably knows they're not. Most uncool people wish they had it, though a few are perfectly OK with being uncool. Some will argue this in itself makes them cool but such is not the case. Being entirely comfortable with one's self is not the same as having cool. 
These people who aren't cool and know they aren't form the great mass of humanity. They are the silent and usually invisible majority, doing the work but unable to take credit for their efforts. This is no false humility; they don't really believe they did much of anything. Their motto is, "Even a blind squirrel finds a nut occasionally." No one is more surprised at their success than they are. 

Perhaps the saddest spectacle is the person who is not cool but thinks they are. They act the part, almost always with disastrous consequences. These blind squirrels do occasionally find a nut but mostly they're like car wrecks - we want to turn away but can't help but watch with a sense of the entertainment value. If it weren't for this combination the TV sitcom would not exist. Whole acting careers have been built on the person who isn't but thinks he is. 

Almost as sad, and often the object of our genuine pity, is the person who is not cool, knows they're not cool, and shamelessly acts the part of the uncool. Instead of staying in the background like the cool person who thinks they're not, these individuals let it all hang out. But just maybe the psychoanalysts would tell us these people are on a par with the first permutation - those who are cool, know they are cool, and act cool. Like them, those who aren't cool, know they aren't cool and act uncool with a sense of abandon live life with integrity. No pretense, no playing one part or another, just being real. Genuine, authentic, unhindered by artificial social rules.

The picture at the top is 50 years old, taken on the playground at Daniel Webster Elementary in Seattle. Yep, my alma mater. Those four guys were my classmates in sixth grade. Our class is having a 50-year reunion in May which I'll be unable to attend. What makes the reunion especially fun is that it is being held at our school, long since taken out of service and now the site of the Scandinavian Heritage Museum. They'll eat in the cafeteria, which looks almost exactly like it did then, and the classrooms will be open for touring. The playground looks just like it did in that photo except for the parking lines now painted there. 

Look at that picture and think about cool. I think it's pretty obvious who is cool, knows they're cool and acts the part. The person who is cool but doesn't think they are is easily mistaken for the person who isn't cool and knows he isn't. So I'll tell you that Jim Hunter was cool. By the time we got to Ballard High School he had distinguished himself as a guy who knew all about cars and could work magic under the hood. He drove one of the original Austin Mini Coopers. Jim had genuine cool, just didn't see himself that way. I know because he was my shop partner in H.S. automotive class. And nobody who saw himself as cool would consent to be shop partner with someone as uncool as me. My only saving grace was that I knew how completely and totally I lacked even the smallest tincture of cool, and so stayed in dark corners. 

Which of those permutations were you when you were in the sixth grade. 
And now?

4 comments:

Jim said...

I'm not answering your question, but for a guy like me who is fascinated with early-to-mid twentieth century aesthetics, that picture is solid gold. Light button ups, dark cuffed jeans, black shoes. Timeless style. And these kids had no idea.

Craig MacDonald said...

Jim, for more pics poke around the official reunion site:
http://www.webster62.info/

Jim Hunter said...

It just seemed to fit. At Ballard High, the car shop was the only place I wanted to be. At the time, it was my element, a class in school in which I was comfortable with the subject matter. It was the diametric opposition of algebra, the mere mention of which still produces a knot in my stomach. Any aptitude I had for the car shop is directly attributable to my Dad (http://thegradualday.wordpress.com/2010/07/18/i-am-my-father%E2%80%99s-son/) and, with Lynn Mickelson’s tutorage and unexpected support, it was one of few classes which I truly enjoyed. Forty-plus years on, memory has faded, as many have, but I’m glad to know you enjoyed being my shop partner. But the truth is, then as now, I’m that blind squirrel. And the car shop was, for a moment, my nut. Nice to find a path back to you again after all these years, Craig. My memories have nothing to do with “dark corners”; you were always about light and cheerfulness, a good friend, if one was fortunate to have you as a friend. I was.

Craig MacDonald said...

Jim, it's excellent to hear from you. And as it turns out I may be able to attend the reunion. I'm assuming you'll be there, yes? I'd love to reconnect.