Samuel Adams – Indian Lager
His dry wit and outlandish humor that one picks up through the
computer monitor is only one facet of this multi layered character. I got to meet
Sam for breakfast and coffee, outside of Edison, New Jersey at a mom and pops
deli, with Oh my God to die for Corn Beef and eggs.
One of the concerns with social media is will the person you
are meeting look like their pictures. How often do people lie about their appearances?
I had met several who grossly exaggerated and some who were dead on target.
Sam? Sam had never told anyone what he looked like because his profile picture
was that of The Rock or Samuel “The Rock” Johnson. Therefore, I would have to
trust that I hadn’t lied about my looks or perception, and he would recognize
me. I hadn’t.
When I arrived at the deli, up walked a beefy Ali Baba himself,
with Jessica Alba eyelashes and grin from ear to ear. We fell into sync talking because Sam and I
had spoken frequently in private messages previously. He was one of the few I had
gotten to know a little better prior to this adventure. I knew he had a
girlfriend of 5 years; I knew he was in law enforcement; I knew he was
intelligent and got my twisted sense of humor too; and I think I knew he was
Indian from India, but I knew it now, as we sat down and he told me his
history.
He tells me he’s from Bombay, but is frequently confused
with someone from Samoa. I laugh because inside my head I’m thinking only Asians
or Indians would think this; Caucasians would not look at Sam and struggle overly
long with his ethnicity. This to me is something that individual races do. For
example when I taught high school, I never realized there was different shades
of black. Only black people see different shades of black. So to Samuel Adams,
he had to explain to me in his witty humor that his bald head, long lashed
almond eyes, beefy build was not that of a typical Indian man despite the sandy
shade of epidermis layer, but that it was most definitely more of a Samoan
look. I took his word for it.
I think overall Sam is running away from anything that
reminds him of who he is or where he came from. He speaks highly of his parents
as far as loving them, but doesn’t want to divulge too much information. I do
discover that he had a typical arranged Indian marriage that did not end well,
and that could be the reason for his turning from and denying his culture so
vehemently. How many Indians from Bombay do you know are veteran U.S law
enforcement officers, dating blond haired American women, lifting weights daily
to beef up, have wit, charm, intelligence and sarcasm on group social media
with strange friends and use The Rock Johnson to describe themselves?
Then again, how many of us do the same thing, consciously or
subconsciously find a way to escape our pasts by recreating our futures. His present
and future are not sad ones. He is very much alive and personable. He has his
demons from years in military and law enforcement, but he copes and searches
for a better life. It’s just another thing that ties us together in the crazy
mixed up world.
When I go to leave, he refuses to say goodbye.
He tells me he doesn’t say goodbye to people. He says something like “see you
soon.” He doesn’t want to hug me, but I force him to because I’m a hugger. This
is the first time where I can tell that saying goodbye has an emotional and raw
effect on him. Leaving people is something he can’t face or do. So I tell him, “I’ll
see you soon, brother.” And that’s what Samuel is, a brother. After meeting
this, shy unassuming hide behind the mask Indian turned Samoan turned American….
After meeting this bright eyed, sweet, kind, goofy, loving, muscular Buddha.
You want to hug and squeeze him, even if it does make him uncomfortable and
call him Brother.
Beautiful!
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