Generation

What are all the different meanings of "generation?" To begin with, the term refers to a time period; secondly, the word indicates some sort of production. Both these things have pertinence in my life, in large part due to the wisdom of my friends and family.

Just a few weeks ago, while sitting on the porch at 411, mama Spears talked about her perception of the meaning of life. Among her priorities in life is the "generation of happiness," an action I mostly take for granted. Whether because of superstition or simple oversight, most people perceive happiness as a state or order imposed but not pursued. This will be important later on...

The alternate definition of generation, as that being an era or age group, means more than I can explain here. The truth is that intergenerational relations in my world are often weak. Despite love and reverence for my families' eldest generation, the processes of studying, aging, marrying, traveling, and more, cut into the relationships between generations.

Enough.

Now to tonight's story. With a little background. My friend, Sultan, a fellow 2001 graduate of North Atlanta, scholar of Arabic, and Warriors football player, is in Los Angeles. I changed plans in order to get out to his airport hotel and have dinner with him.

On the way back from the In and Out Burger, we parted our ways and I walked to the bus station. Along the platform were various characters, including an obviously touristy woman, a blatantly intoxicated woman, and more. One woman, with a few bags in tow, was waiting under the sign for a bus which was no longer running at the time of night we were there. She requested, as I walked by, that she use my cell phone (using mostly the international language of putting one's pinky to the mouth and thumb towards the ear and remaining fingers clasped towards the palm). So, I dialed the number she spat out and handed her the phone. Once connected, this woman became upset and started the teariness of a lonely person and hung up the phone with only a couple instructions on how to get closer to home. I then asked her where she wanted to go and it turned out we were headed to the same area - downtown-ish. Now we were friends. And, after boarding two buses with her heavy luggage and repeatedly butting wheels with the aforementioned tourist's bags, this woman and I arrived at the intersection of King and Broadway (refer to earlier post with link to my neighborhood - at the center of which is the this intersection). My new friend used the phone four times more and finally saw her niece pull up in an SUV to scoop up this older Hispanic woman and her bags. They paid me $40 (after much insistence from both me - that I didn't need it - and her - that she must give it to me) and bid me buenos nochas (sp?). I strolled two blocks home and realized that the evening held much meaning... to see Sultan before his two years in Vanuatu, and to accompany an older woman closer to her destination. Sultan is generating unspeakable adventure; my new friend and I differed by two generations, at least. My personal story is caught up in this account of my evening... its a story of some loneliness (which I feel more comfortable talking about through the narrative of another) and new things (which I was extremely excited to join with Sultan in exploring).

Good night.