The Choice

Click. Click. Click goes the seconds on my watch and the digital clock in the 1985 Pontiac J2000 that I am driving. I stare ahead at the wall of stop lights across the many lanes. The red beam signaling the demand that I keep my foot on the brake pedal. The red beam that silently screams “STOP” to all who see it mocks me.

I know, or I assume to know, that no one else waiting in their cars sees the red light as a death sentence. I know, or I assume to know, that none of my fellow travelers feel like the world is collapsing around them for no apparent reason. I am just a boy en route to work at a local radio station. I am a child; I don’t know anything for real. But I do know pain. I know messages that crush self-esteem. I know people who believe themselves better than me despite no proof otherwise. I know prejudice for my sex, my age, my education. I am young and I know it nonetheless. I know it all with its disappointments and messages of allowed shortcomings.

The stop light changes to green. I see the transition. In fact, I noticed when the light going the other direction changed from green to yellow to red signaling my right to move.

There I sit. I stare at the stop light with its green light gleaming. I saw it. I see it. The asshole behind me honking also sees it. That bastard, in his shitty Ford Mustang, is looking to run somewhere, and I am in his way. But that light, with its permission to move, means far more to me than just a right to go forward. That damned green fixture in its black casement beneath yellow and red bulbs does not just mean “go”.

No, it means direction that I do not have. It is a future undetermined. That damned light is my leap into the unknown.

I stare at the light. I hear a dumb redneck behind me in his Dodge truck with its big horn and his tobacco-chewed curses. All are for me. I am frozen and no one around me in other vehicles understand why. They are going to live their lives.

I am unable to put my right foot on the gas pedal; it is not just a bullshit motion into the next moment of mediocrity to me. This green light and the necessary movement for me to go through it is so much more. It is either going to be my leap to freedom or my acceptance of conformity- the conformity that ate the souls and bodies of my parents, my grandparents, my great grandparents. The acceptance of good enough that has devoured billions in history not to mention my loved ones among them.

This green light is far more than a stop light at Outer Loop and National Turnpike in South Louisville. It is a door to my life unfettered by doctrine, not dictated by parents, uninhibited by religious teaching having nothing to do with God and everything to do with a man’s need to have control over others.

Tonight, I am driving myself to work for the first time. Tonight, I am in the car all by myself for the very first time. Tonight, I am free to turn left, right or go straight ahead without having my life dictated to me by others. My 17-year-old mind is on fire. My hands are ablaze with opportunity. For the very first time, I know, know, KNOW that my decision is mine. The Dodge truck douchebag behind me is not in the know.