Down the aisle

Perhaps you have a memory of being lost as a child. Mine includes an image of the shelf of canned green beans in an aisle in Loblaw's, our local grocery store, and a clear recollection of the momentary panic of being alone unexpectedly. But, after that initial fear, there was a sense of adventure and freedom, probably because it was a familiar place. My time of freedom was short-lived. I don't know if the situation arose because I was bored and wandered off or if my mother left me behind, but the result was the same. At four years old I'd experienced my first independence in the outside world.

We walk down many aisles in our lifetime. Joyful ceremonies, like graduations or weddings include pomp and circumstance. Entertainment and sports events may be in a larger venue but there is a celebratory atmosphere. Solemn gatherings, such as funerals or corporate meetings when things aren't going so well, have many of the same elements but the tone is totally different. These events include some choreography and lots of traditions and bring friend, family and stranger together in a common experience.

When we are the "star" of the show, such as the bride or the pupil called to the front of the class, all eyes are on us, but most of the time, we walk down the aisle unnoticed. We take stock of our surroundings, hoping the person next to us may merely nod. In my experience, long gone are the days of interesting conversations with the stranger next to us on the bus or plane. I have season tickets to the Chicago Sinfonietta and it took several concerts before I introduced myself to the woman who was routinely next to me. We have both since changed our seats, but we still nod or chat about the music out in the rotunda during intermission. Now I sit next to a shy tween who I've learned plays the cello.

This topic came to mind during my recent vacation. My flight to Columbus was nearly full and I was lucky enough to be among the first 50 boarding the plane. You know the scenario. We queued up and then waited in the long walkway into the aircraft. We greeted the attendant stationed at the door, at the beginning of the aisle down the center of the plane. The person in front of me stopped at his selected seat and began to broadly slip off his backpack, forcing me to step back or get hit in the face, starting a slight chain reaction. After settling in my aisle seat I avoided eye contact with those still boarding, hoping no one would sit next to me. Once in the air, the aisle dances began as people got up to move around and drink service started. As soon as the plane docked at the gate, everyone was out of their seat, scrambling for their place in the aisle, but again, only to stand and wait.

From my first independence to this last journey, I've learned that aisles can be orderly or messy, quiet or boisterous, straight or crooked, bordered with flowers or stark and dangerous, smooth or slippery to walk on. I've learned to maneuver alone, with a companion or in a group. I've wandered looking for a spot and been escorted by flashlight. I know which aisles I usually avoid or frequent at stores. This weekend I enjoyed the carefully designed aisles at Garfield Park Conservatory, and by the time you read this, celebrities will have walked the red carpet to the Oscars, that aisle of recognition. 

An aisle is simply a path between or along something that allows us to get from one place to another. Think of how many you walk down on a daily basis and take a minute to appreciate its familiarity or newness, its design or efficiency. Then think about perhaps finding a new one to explore.

Marilyn