If I were to write my maternal grandfather as a character, I would choose just a few details. They would include that he was a barrel-chested New Englander known his entire life by one member of the extended family as, “that damn Yankee.” Over the course of the work day, his chest hair (and back hair) would work its way through his undershirt so that removing it in the evening resulted in a sound much like releasing Velcro. And last, but not least, his personal cattle call consisted of a gentle shake of the sack of feed followed by a “woo-oooh, suc, suc, suc.”
These would be enough to create a complex, unique character with his own set of desires and challenges. Then consider the facts that he graduated with a degree in engineering from Boston University before becoming a Texas cattleman. He meticulously maintained a large workshop, smoked a pipe, and cared for his ailing wife when she succumbed to dementia in her late sixties.
It’s the little details isn’t it? I recently went on a Liam Neeson binge via Amazon Prime. The dude is still making movies at a pretty high level. I guess he just likes to stay busy. One of his pandemic film releases was “Marksman,” a story about an aging rancher living along the Arizona-Mexico border. After watching several Neeson movies, I found his roll as a rancher/hick a bit of a stretch, that is until one moment early in the film. It was a small detail, almost a throw away scene, during which he fed his few remaining cattle. As he approached the trough shaking an open sack of feed, he gently called, “chit, chit, chit.”
It was his personal cattle call. Every rancher has one. My grandfather had one. My father had a similar but modified one. If I would have maintained work on the ranch after graduation, I would have assumed one that borrowed from both my grandfather and my father. For me, this detail connected me to the character. I instantly understood everything else about him. He became human at an individual level—no longer a stereotype or a generalization. No longer understood simply as an “old white dude” or a hick or a rancher or a patriot or an ex-marine or a conservative or a drunk or a widower. For me, that one detail moved him beyond categories and labels.
Of course the character in the movie was not a real person. Neeson is an actor. It is his job to get inside these fictional characters and make them feel real to the viewer. As an author, my job is similar. While these examples are fictional ones, I think the concept crosses over to reality. It is the small details that make our neighbors real people. The small details enable us to connect with our fellow humans beyond the stereotypes and categories and labels, don’t you think? But that’s the trick. Small details are small. How are we ever going to notice them without paying close attention?
It’s easy for me to dismiss a neighbor based on the vehicle they drive or the flag they fly or their yippee, little dog (damn dog). But what about the story behind the scar they carry above their right eye? The tattoo on their wrist? Or the fact that they mow their lawn in a diagonal pattern? Their antique can collection? Or that they stand on the stoop smoking every night at 2:00am? Or that every time is snows they go for a walk in flip flops?
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