What Do Cinderella, Truman Capote and King Henry VIII have in Common?

The Uber jingle alerted me to a pickup in Cupertino, a 23 minute trip.  I accepted the ride and meandered through the Cupertino suburbs and arrived at the pickup address.  I didn't wait long before the rider approached the car.  I will call him Marvin.  I couldn't help but notice that Marvin was wearing 1970's style basketball shorts which were two sizes too small. They were too tight and fit in a way that was reminiscent of the way King Henry VIII wore his armor.  Marvin had a growing potbelly pushing through a ribbed A-frame tank top.  The tank top was tucked into his shorts; thoughtful, I think.  A faded ketchup stain on his tank top rest at the top of his protruding belly. He tentatively reached for the car door handle and fought with its weight as he pulled it open.  I considered getting out of the car to help him with the door, but soon he made it through. We greet each other respectfully. He is well mannered and polite.




He looks like a very young Truman Capote, but with curly uncombed hair which did not entirely cover his head. He's wearing thin gold wire ellipse shaped glasses almost the exact size of his eyes. The image of Truman Capote wearing one of his classic black felt hats pops into my head. Marvin didn't speak as effeminately as Truman Capote, however,  his choice of couture lends itself to the proclivity.

I notice that the destination address includes the name of a school. So I begin. I ask, "Are you heading to school this morning?" (I can ask dumb questions too).  Three seconds pass, he replies, "Yes".  I glance at him in the rear view mirror wondering if I had interrupted an activity, as I try to account for the delay in his response.  He is staring out the window.  I try again, "Are you a student or a teacher?" Three seconds pass. With a natural diffidence he replies, "I'm a student". We reach a brief lull in the conversation.  A few moments pass. I'm hoping to hit it out of the park on my third swing, "What are you studying?".  One, two, three. Again, his response was timid, "I'm studying Animation". Usually I just stop talking if some one is not willing to play Wack-A-Mole in a conversation, but this is a subject in which I have professional experience. I mention that I once created animation cells for Time Warner Interactive and Atari Games for coin operated arcade games. This peaks Marvin's interest and he prepares to speak, though I had to wait another three seconds before he said it.  He shifts himself in his seat and starts asking questions. "Did you draw the images by hand?"  I wait. One, two, three, then I answer. Now I'm practicing his pace. "Did you use film?",  he asked. I wait. One, two, three, then I answer with one word. He asks another question, "What games did you make?" I wait. One, two, three.  It's unlike me to truncate my response to anyone, with any question, but I assimilated a certain rhythm in our conversation and was enjoying the three second rule.  I decided to volley, "What do you think of Anime?" He waits. One, two, three. This time he spoke as though he was giving thought to each word as it exited his mouth. "I-haven't-watched-a-lot-of-it".  I have a sense of something not being quite right with Marvin.  Silently, I continue to be triggered.  Aside from that, the conversation seems to start flowing. I point out the similarity in Anime and Disney film in that they were both, at one time or another, considered the leading cultural style of animation respective to their country. One, two, three, "I (two second pause), I like the Disney films". "Do you (two second pause) have a favorite Disney film?". Kind of him to inquire. I expresses my first thought, "Fantasia is my favorite Disney film, but I wasn't able to stay awake for the whole thing until I was in my teens". Marvin didn't know what to think of that answer, so he just nodded and shifted his focus back to staring out the window.  At the very least, I was expecting a chuckle, but there was none.  He soon volunteers more information.  This time his words came out of his mouth quickly and with some force, "I like Cinderella the best".  Interesting choice, I say to myself.  I think that may have been his version of an overshare. "What was it about the film you enjoyed the most?",  I ask.  Marvin's energy completely changed, the flood gates have opened. I struck gold. Through my entire life, even with three older sisters, I did not learn as much about the Disney Princesses as I learned in that twenty-five minutes.  Marvin explains, Cinderella's real name is Mary Beth Ella Gertrude. Her ill-tempered older sisters were step-sisters to her, which explains their jealousy, selfishness and the mistreatment imposed on Cinderella. Their poor behavior is due to being raised in a broken home, according to Marvin. I ask, "Do you live with your parents, Marvin?" "I live with my Grandmother", he says. I guess Marvin's age to be somewhere in his early forties.  I didn't ask where his parents had gone.  I'm afraid to ask.  He continues, "Maleficent turned evil because her parents where killed by humans".  He goes on to explain the connections between The Brother Grimm's stories and Sleeping Beauty and more.  I interrupt, "I'm confused Marvin, but I'm curious to know what you want to do with this knowledge".  At this point I find the depth of his understanding staggering, but I also notice the first signs of confidence in his expression. In a way I'm pleased to recognize his passion. With a voice of commitment he say's, "I want to make a documentary".  "Thats fantastic!" I exclaim. His attention again turns out the window to the passing traffic.

     

     Silence lingers in the car and the sounds of traffic sooth. I was taking inventory of the cadence in our conversation.  In my reflection I have an epiphany.  Marvin's parlance is indicative of a person who has had the training necessary to overcome a childhood speech impediment. He may have stuttered. Then I wonder if because of that speech impediment he developed a behavioral inhibition.  I can only imagine that he may have been teased by children who were purposefully cruel.  Or perhaps the teasing came first.  In any case, his parents may have sheltered him, as would be the response of caring parents. That may explain his introversion too.  I get that, but I'm not an expert. I'm only adding up my observations.    

     Whatever it was, overall, it occurs to me that he had expressed a heart felt passion, something deeply personal and important to him. It must have been difficult for him to open up like that. I wonder what went on in his head or heart for that matter. Perhaps in a way, he felt like Cinderella. After all, her story appears to have parallels. She was a hard worker who never had anything negative to say about anyone. She was humble and kind, even though she was subject to cruelty unnecessarily.  Or perhaps part of him feels a bit evil, like Maleficent, spiteful and resentful, because his parents had been taken from him. Now my imagination contributes to his story.

     We arrive at his school. "Is this the front door Marvin?". "Yes", he said. "Good luck, Marvin. Study hard!" I regret saying it as soon as the words left my mouth, as the image of his couture flashed in my mind. His energy picked up as he opened the door. He said thank you and walked with an accelerated pace towards the entrance.  I enjoyed our conversation. I have a lot to think about. He, like all of us, is seeking fulfillment and purpose.  I could only respect him for expressing his passion. He trusted me with something very personal and in a way I'm honored.