Lazy Park Days

Istamby was a man of the city.

He would often think to himself about the nature of personality. Strangers were the greatest curiousity of all, and Istamby spent a great amount of time sitting on park benches and watched the walking strangers of the city pass by him. Each stranger could be broadly defined through interests -- superficial ones such as fashion, sports, and entertainment. Each stranger could be more narrowly defined through personality -- the quick-tempered, the lazy, and the humorous. Istamby liked to target a person as they passed through the park and then go about pigeonholing the stranger into the smallest of pigeonholes -- until there was nothing left, in his mind, by which he could identify that particular park passer-by. Istamby would target a person and then follow him through the park and observe. He would follow him through the park until the person transgressed the park boundaries. At that specific moment, that specific stranger could no longer be the subject of Istamby's favorite pastime.

Speaking of pastime's, Istamby's father loved baseball. And Istamby's mother loved to dote on her one and only son. Istamby was born Miguel, but Istamby's father quickly noted (and quickly resented) that Istamby was of the idyllic and pensive sort. Perhaps this was a result of sitting by the tube while just a toddler, watching Sesame Street and some Mr. Roger's Neighborhood while snacking on the lumpia that always seemed to be around the house. Istamby's father would yell, "Istamby Buong Maghapon," whenever he caught the young boy dozing off or staring intently on the activity outside or in the television. "Why don't you want to take part? There is more to life than watching." Over time though, as young Istamby entered the awkward and rebellious phases of adolescence, the two parents came to agree that his role as an observer most assuredly trumped the risks of having a son who spent his time idly gallavanting about, getting into lots of trouble and being troublesome towards young girls. At least they could agree on that.

Istamby would walk out to the park everyday. He did not have a strict schedule to follow, but he would normally be out in the park by two in the afternoon. At that time, he would take out his lunch bag and unwrap the two lumpia that his mother would carefully assemble and place at his bedroom door every morning. Lumpia, as you might expect, is not a morning food. But, for Istamby, it was definitely a food that enhanced the meditative and contemplative process. Istamby liked his lumpia to be cooked early in the day, so that when he was ready to eat them, they would be slightly cold and soggy. This really managed to seal in the true flavor of the lumpia. Istamby would wait for the first suitable target of the day to enter the bounds of the park. When that moment happened to occur, Istamby would then take the first bite out of the lumpia. His digesto-meditative state proved to be full and satisfying at times only when the subject of observation was of particular interest.

As one would expect, after some time had passed with this activity, Istamby found that not many new people would come into the park on a daily basis. Many of the faces would begin to become familiar in a way. But Istamby would merely add to their story, and soon these strangers felt like old friends -- or at least according to Istamby's view of friendship. At times, Istamby would feel compelled to approach one of the park-goers. But, as often accompanies the ability towards astute observation, Istamby found conversation to be especially troublesome.

When Istamby was a schoolboy, all the children would eat their lunch at their desk. This was because the private Catholic grade school that he attended failed to be equipped with a lunchroom. Lunchtime would come, and the children would go to their lockers in the hallway to retrieve their packed lunches. Occassionally, some of the mothers would volunteer to organize a hot lunch, and fresh and hot pizzas would be delivered to the classroom, much to the children's delight. Istamby liked school mostly because of the teachers. He didn't get along so well with the other children -- though this was not at all his fault. Strangely, Istamby felt intimidated by his peers but thoroughly felt at home with the kindly nuns and layperson teachers.

Istamby sat in the park one day and noticed a girl. He drew a blank but continued observing anyway. She passed and left the park's confines -- leaving Istamby a dudgeon mess. "Completely uncharacteristic," mused Istamby as he continued to while away his afternoon in the park's sunny environ, "and yet, strangely compelling and absolutely necessary."

A kindly, old woman walked into the park and offered up some fresh lemon square snack to the boyish Istamby. "You sit here everyday young boy. You watch and muse yet yearn for nothing." Istamby smiled graciously for the kind gift and nodded approvingly in response to the seeming harsh criticism.

"Perhaps this is true, but I contend that I do in fact live for something of value -- although you may not agree."

"Your father would not approve of this behavior of yours. He loved you dearly though, in despite of your awful shortcomings."

"I've had a full day of sitting here. I'm going home to cook up some lumpia. You should join me, and we can discuss this further."

(Note: I had the idea for this character while on spring break. He's not too much unlike a Korean boy that I was classmates with in grade school. I definitely don't have time to develop the ideas here more, but I like the start that I've gotten off to.)