We humans come in all varieties of shapes, sizes, colors, facial features, and everything else that defines us from them and them from us. I am a people watcher, as I suspect many of us are, and enjoy sitting and observing the many comings and goings of us human types.

“Observing” or “watching” are the words that those on the observation or watching end of the people watching equation refer to the hobby. The observed or watched may refer to it in less kindly terms; staring, stalking, gawking, unnerving, unsettling. That’s a short list of the words the prosecution threw around.

As a seasoned people watcher, it is easy to identify those people who invite or enjoy the observation of others. These subjects are of less interest to me than those who obviously don’t care or are blissfully unaware there are others in their vicinity or their world who are gawking in their general direction and taking a passing interest in them.

Maybe growing up in a small town heightens one’s enjoyment or need to people watch. You generally don’t take a second glance at those who share your small town because you’ve seen them your whole life and you know most everything there is to know about them. Not much changes and not much is left to the imagination. We have the choice or option to know people as much or as little as we or they choose.

that is why I enjoy travelling. I can go to the big city and see people I’ve never seen before and most likely will never see again. Visually they are there and gone and it is unlikely a word will be passed between us. So much is left up to the imagination, and I have a vivid, strange imagination.

You can learn a lot about people by watching or at least we might think we can. “Don’t judge a book by its cover” is advice we have most likely heard on more occasions than we have the capacity to remember. As a people watcher I try and maintain a bipartisan position and attempt to withhold any major judgments in character.

The character I project on to those in my gawking gaze is most likely a result of my actually knowing someone who has similar gawkable features and mannerisms. Just because two people share similar, possibly unfortunate, tastes in clothing and hair style doesn’t mean they are of similar character. If a murderer was described as wearing Zubas, a muscle shirt, and had a permed mullet should we assume all in that category are murderers?

We could assume, however, those in that category most likely never entered into the institution of marriage where a wife would have quietly turned the offending Zubas and muscle shirts into rags useful in cleaning up after pets with gastrointestinal issues. We are interesting and curious things to observe. By “we” I mean “us” which includes me as I am sure I have committed my share of gawkable offenses and been at the gawking end of a gawker a time or two (see previous reference to Zubas, muscle shirts, and permed mullets).

As interesting as it is to hang out in a heavily populated gawker’s paradise, I wouldn’t want to live there. There is a certain comfort in small towns, comfort of familiarity, comfort knowing you know them and they know you.

Being amongst the familiar allows for a break in gawking and perhaps leaves a little time to turn the gawk inward, reflect on the reflection and rethink that wardrobe. If you have ever found yourself retrieving a piece of your clothing from the rag bin you need to be made aware it did not get there by accident and you have been the subject of public gawking.

Whether or not you care is another matter? Without stars there would be no star gazers. Shine on my friend.