15 Seconds Says A Lot

I took Alhanna to the Gulfport Beach and pier the other day.  As beaches go, its pretty low on anyones list for a good time.  Too small, too unappealing, and it mostly serves the older set just wanting a little sun but not wanting to stray too far from toilets or their afternoon card game at McDonald's, I guess.

I took this short video of a guy on a bench playing with the birds.  15 seconds.  That's all.  But it speaks volumes, I think.

• My first reaction was, when I get to thinking this is fun, throw me off a pier.   Someone please put me out of my misery.  Sitting on a bench with birds flapping around me, probably evacuating as well.  I want to leave this place when this is my pleasure, my passion.
• That is probably unfair.  But look at the joy in his face.  Man, this guy is loving the birds, the attention.  Again, give me a shove.
• His wife, or partner, seems bored by the whole thing.  I get the impression she has to put up with this guys pleading to go back tot he beach to feed the birds, and she hates it.  He's probably been doing this for passersby and tourists for years.  Probably hates doing the laundry, too.
• Birds are kind of filthy things anyway.  Now imagine having them flapping and crapping all over you just so you can give them a breadcrumb and smile at someone walking by.  It's like some old two-bit vaudevillian who is passed up by talkies, TV and time.   

I left with an overpowering sense of sadness.  That guy may have been an engineer at Cat, or a water superintendent someplace, or a juvenile or adult counselor, or a paint technician, or a builder of firetrucks.  Purpose must be fleeting in life, or you must feed it like this guy is feeding his birds.  I hope he has things in life that fulfill him.  I hope he has big dreams and goals and ventures and things to do.  I hope this isn't what he is or who he is.  15 seconds.  Damn, getting shit on ain't no way to end it.