the boys next door

Tonight, I went to see several of my friends in the Tom Griffin play, "The Boys Next Door". I didn't know much of anything about the play, really, but perhaps it would have been better if I had looked it up. It's a bittersweet story of the relationship between a caretaker and four men. The four men are living together in a group home, four men of varying age and mental ability. Three of the men have some degree of mental retardation; the fourth is schizophrenic and is living there, no doubt, because the state doesn't know where else to put him.
I did not know the setting of the play.
But why should that matter?
It matters because Mama was involved with the Chatham Association for Retarded Citizens, the charity she asked to be mentioned in her obituary, a charitable group which is now defunct. It matters because my first niece, while in middle school and high school, was involved as a volunteer with STEPS, a program to assist mentally disabled children in public schools, a program which is now defunct. It matters because I continue to support the Special Olympics Georgia every year, ever since the CARC disappeared, donating because Mama would have.
At first, the play was fairly light with lots of chuckles thrown in. I'm a fan of a television show called "The Big Bang Theory", which follows the friendship of four science geeks, warts and all. It shines a favorable light on autism in general and Asperger's Syndrome in particular, as well as bringing science (mostly physics and engineering) into the living rooms and dens of thousands of homes here in the States. I realize that there is a huge difference between autism and mental retardation - but how many do?
So, I'm watching the play and laughing along with other members of the audience. As I said, I know several of these actors and I enjoyed seeing their portrayal of the characters, especially the three mentally retarded men. You see, I thought they were doing a very good job of capturing the essence of the characters and the mental capacity of each for understanding the world around them.
I didn't have a clue about the message of the play. Well, actually, I did, but I chose to only pay minimal attention to it. The caretaker would speak in asides to the audience, giving us insights into these men, letting us know how burned out he was by this job, but also telling us how much he cared for these men and what was to become of them.
It struck me as odd the first time he did this, but I let it slide, accepting it as exposition, waiting to see what would follow.
A dance followed. In this community of "broken" people, a monthly dance was held, to encourage socializing, at least to an extent. And so we see the romance between Norman and Sheila, both of whom seem to be at about the same level of mental retardation, both of whom like each other. We watch as they awkwardly dance together, each at arm's length, feet shuffling, bodies bent, and we chuckle at the sight, as we are meant to do. Then, as the first act is ending on this duo, the scene shifts and they are close together in each other's arms, graceful, skilled, synchronized bodies moving to the beat.
And that's when it hits me: this is how THEY see themselves. They KNOW how "normal" people dance, they've seen them on television if not in person. And, in their minds, THEY are swaying to the beat, two rhythmic creatures moving as one across the floor.
And that's when I cried and found myself unable to be lighthearted about this play anymore. We had been privy to the perspective of the characters, the curtain had been lifted.
After all, don't we ALL carry such a distorted image of ourselves? And shouldn't we ALL realize that none of us are perfect? Not the ones who are physical beauties, not the ones who are incredibly brilliant, not the ones skilled in athletics, not one of us.
There's a quote that shows up in emails from time to time and it goes something like this: "Be kinder than necessary, for everyone is fighting their own battles."
I'll try.