Friday, 3 October 2014

Connecting eyes

It’s strange that moment when two eyes connect, the realisation of recognition. The thoughts that can run through your mind, in that second, that very fast moment.
‘is that him/her, it can’t be, I was just thinking of him/her'.
Across the distance between our eyes and our thoughts, it is recognisable that he/she, is having the very same thoughts, shared thoughts.
I've had this connection a few times in my life, not always with someone I wanted to connect with.
On one occasion, during the late sixties, I was working on a building site on Grace Park road in Drumcondra. We worked on 'Piece Work' and only  paid for the work we completed. We had a maximum to complete each day and I had no problem achieving this goal . In fact I was well ahead and had work stored up as there was a maximum we could earn each day. It was winter time and needless to say, I wasn't jumping out of bed with excitement each morning. I would turn over, then twice, turn over again, back and forth many times. Eventually I would inch my way out of bed on to the cold winter, lino covered floor. In my own time I made my way towards the first of my two buses, late for work. This happened morning after morning, right through these frost covered mornings. The money was very good but the work was less than enticing.
It was on my second bus, one morning, heading up the Drumcondra road, where this connection happened.
Our two eyes connected when the bus stopped at the junction of Drumcondra road and Grace Park road. I was less than fully awake, my head lying against the steam covered windows. It’s important to recount that the bus stopped in the middle of the junction, right in front of A blue 'Ford Anglia' car. This was not any Blue Ford Anglia, this was the blue Anglia car owned and driven by my boss. Our eye’s met, his from behind the steering wheel of this sixties classic and me, through the disturbed steam covered window of the number 16 bus. Our thought connected, not of the polite variety but easily understood.
He didn't need to say anything for me to know I was in trouble, I didn't need to say anything for him to sense that I felt trapped, nowhere to hide, why had I disturbed the steam on the window.
The anger in his eye’s and the evidence of blood pressure that showed in his red face sent a very distinct, clear message to me that morning.

That brief moment, those brief thoughts, underscored our relationship from then on. 

JC-Dublin-A City defined by it's thoughts.