Wednesday, January 8, 1997
APPEARANCES:
Judge people not by their physical looks but instead by the
qualities they can controlBy Howard Kim
I thought it was going to be another one of those routine days
of delivering flowers for my aunt this Christmas season when a
sudden realization hit me  a sort of epiphany shall we say
…
"Just another retirement home for just another grandparent whose
children didn’t want to put up with the burdens of a dying parent"
was my thought as I pulled up to the Royale Retirement Home. As I
walked into the room to whom the flowers were sent for, the first
thing that struck me as odd was a barking dog. Like postmen, flower
deliverers quickly grow accustomed to the habits of "man’s best
friend" such as the licking, barking and occasional teething into
one’s calves or feet.
But what separated this dog from the other canines I’ve
encountered was that its hind legs were mangled and rested on a
two-wheeled cart to enable it to move around. As the dog approached
me, the grandmother to whom the flowers were sent instructed
"Poo-pie," the dog, to settle down.
"How nice, those flowers look so delightful," complimented the
grandmother.
"Thanks, but I didn’t arrange them," I replied.
Seeing that I looked haggard from the day’s deliveries, she
kindly offered me a soft drink and told me to have a seat.
Normally, I refuse such offers but I was really thirsty and an
inner voice told me to stay. Trying to make small talk, I asked:
"So who sent you the flowers, your children? Grandchildren?"
"Oh I don’t have any children, they came from my sister in New
York," she answered.
Quite puzzled at how someone who didn’t have children could
afford this type of retirement home and why she never had children,
I wanted to ask more questions on the topic. But knowing better I
decided not to. So I stood up and wished her a Merry Christmas and
was on my way out when she asked for my name. I gave it to her and
then she asked in a tone of voice that’s only heard when someone’s
about to cry: "Harold, can you stay for a minute?"
Looking at her, now teary-eyed, I responded, "Of course I
can."
I sat down again. Part of me wanted to stay all day long to hear
her life story and to try and comfort her, while another part of me
hoped that my pager would go off so I could tell her I had to go
and complete the rest of my deliveries. Obeying my conscience, I
eagerly listened to her.
She began by explaining how her life seemed empty and that the
holidays just make her feel worse. She loved animals and explained
how she dedicated her life to become a veterinarian and how, on her
free time, she even volunteered her expertise at the animal
shelter. But what really made my heart sink was when she said,
"This is the reward I get for my hard work." I was speechless. I
tried to think of something comforting to say but nothing came out.
She then stood up, grabbed a photo album from the bookshelf, and
placed it in front of me. She then turned to a particular page and
asked, "Would you ever marry someone who looked like this?"
I looked at the picture. It was of someone you wouldn’t describe
as pretty. Although I’m ashamed to admit it, I’m afraid many of the
friends I hang out with would even describe the person in the
picture as ugly.
Looking at her right in the eye and playing the biggest poker
bluff of my life, I answered, "Yes! I would marry someone who looks
like this. Looks don’t matter to me, there are so many better
things to look for in people." I was actually saying something I
heard my brother say, the same brother who wants to be a
minister.
After hearing a surprised "Oh" from her, and since I had a
head-full of attributes and allegories from my brother (with whom I
drove cross-country last summer), I decided to use one of them in
this situation. I started to tell her the short story by Nathaniel
Hawthorne titled "The Birthmark."
It’s a story of how this man marries a beautiful girl who has a
birthmark. She’s altruistic, kindhearted, and takes very good care
of her husband. The only problem is that the man is too preoccupied
with the birthmark and can’t appreciate her for all she has to
offer. As a result, she tragically kills herself knowing that she
could never make him happy.
Well, my brother’s interpretation of this story is that this is
how life is. There really is a beauty in everyone but you have to
overlook the birthmarks of this world to truly appreciate them.
Upon hearing all of this, the same grandmother who was crying
just a few minutes ago was now smiling with an effervescent glow.
She then stood up, hinted me to do likewise, gave me a hug and
said, "Well, bless your heart." Apologizing for keeping me so long
she then suggested I should go finish my job. We exchanged numbers
and told her I would call occasionally to keep up with her and even
try to visit.
After leaving, I initially felt happy that I made one
individual’s day more pleasant. But this happiness grew into
self-repulsion when I realized that I was just reciting someone
else’s beliefs and that they weren’t my own. I’m one of those same
guys who will look twice at a pretty girl on Bruin walk and seem to
treat pretty girls differently than other girls and even some of my
friends. I admit I’m not as blatant as one of my roommates, whom I
once asked, "How come you always pay for X, but never pay for Y?"
He responded, "Because X is pretty and Y is not." This kind of
differential treatment makes me sick and is one of the reasons I’m
writing this article.
Sure, there are many of us who look for the superficially pretty
people in life and ignore or treat differently the "birthmarks" of
society. Well, you guys are missing out on getting to know some
very sweet people. There’s this one girl Saundra I know who’s very
pretty by many standards. Her boyfriend is this guy named Charlie.
Well, a lot of her girlfriends don’t think he’s that attractive and
tell her to go for someone who’s better looking. I think it’s the
most beautiful thing in the world when she replies that he takes
really good care of her, makes her happy and that’ s all that
counts.
I think there are a few really pretty people at UCLA (I mean
model types), but many beautiful people if you just look. One
really pretty girl that I hang out with once told me that she used
to do some modeling. I asked her why she hadn’t told me earlier,
and told her that she should be proud that she was a model. She
replied, "No I shouldn’t. It’s just because of my genetics." I
guess that’s what makes me so sad: that people can treat
individuals like this grandmother so cruelly just because she
inherited the wrong genes.
I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m looking for someone
with more permanent traits, like kindness, a sense of humor and a
willingness to help others  qualities that will remain
"beautiful" even as we grow old together. To me, that’s the real
beauty of beauty.