“One Day Among Many”
By: Scott Petty
There was this day, a long time ago, tucked away in the deep recesses of his mind, recalled quiteoften to the front of his thought over and over again. In the annals of his personal history, it was one of those pivotal days, or a moment that seemed to germinate many more curious days yet to be lived…Teenagers are curious creatures. They are people caught in a cross-section of life and they walkthrough it with eyes wide open but with minds that are mostly blank. There are always more questionsasked than answers given. It seems that the adolescent years are spent in writing all those questions, inquestioning everything outside and inside. After a couple of decades pass people seem to becomecontent to let the questions simply arise. By the time the twenties end people spend almost no timelooking for new questions but only to find ways and means. They finally understand how to use theirtime more wisely. The questions will organically crop up so they only address the significant ones,disregard the insignificant, and rarely draft their own. Sufficient is the evil unto the day thereof.But only the passage of time will bring that calm and unless that ‘teen decade is handled withsome measure of care the future arrives in fragments. In that case, people end up spending the rest of their lives in an attempt to assemble the pieces into a somewhat coherent picture. And maybe they canpatch is up and pass the cracks off as artistic lines called ‘character.’He sat on the edge of his bed at the beginning of another tired day after a night of little sleep.He thought about that day again. He wondered (as he often did) if that historic day was not the momentthat his life steered away from harmony and plunged into discord. There was no other day like it. It wasthe head. Or maybe it was just another symptom and not the cause? There he was: almost thirty andasking questions. He had to question it though. It felt like the start. If he figured out where it began, if hequestioned it enough, if he prodded and poked at it with doubt and skepticism, then, he thought, all theproblems would unravel and he would be able to simply rethread the fabric of his life into a morecomfortable existence.
Just that one day,
he thought to himself as he struggled to shake sleep from hiseyes,
and I would be living another kind of life.
He simply found it impossible to forget.His mind sauntered back to 1996…It was at a time when local record stores were still prolific and offered vinyl and cassettes.Compact Discs had just reached their hay-day. Portable CD players were a status symbol. The internetwas still a luxury ergo the protocols that made the digitalization of media standard had not as yet coatedthe cultural landscape. iTunes, mp3’s: these things were not around during that time. Everyone still hadfilm in their cameras.On that day, in that year, he entered a local bookstore next to an adjoining record store. TOWERBOOKS next to TOWER RECORDS. He had not entered alone though. He had been followed into the storeby an older brother—who was about a year and half older—and their father…As he sat on his bed and remembered the scene again he was still unsure about what broughtthem to that store; why he had walked in with his brother and father. Maybe there was no particular