Where do the Mermaids stand?

For those of you who have never seen this, it is adapted from a Robert Fulghum story, and is one of my greatest inspirations.

Organizing a roomful of wired-up gradeschoolers into two teams, explaining the rudiments of the game, achieving consensus on group identity--all this is no mean accomplishment. But we did it with right good will and were ready to go.

The excitement of the chase had reached a critical mass. I yelled out, "You have to decide now which you are--a GIANT, a WIZARD, or a DWARF!"

While the groups huddled in frenzied, whispered consultation, a tug came on my pant's leg. A small child stands there looking up and asks in a small, concerned voice, "Where do the mermaids stand?"

Where do the mermaids stand?

A long pause. A very long pause. "Where do the Mermaids stand?" says I.

"Yes, you see, I am a Mermaid."

"There are no such things as Mermaids."

"Oh, yes, I am one!"

She did not relate to being a giant, a wizard or a dwarf. She knew her category. Mermaid. And was not about to leave the game and go over and stand against the wall where a loser would stand. She intended to participate, wherever Mermaids fit into the scheme of things. She took it for granted that there was a place for Mermaids and that I would know just where.

Well, where do Mermaids stand? All the "Mermaids"--all those who are different, who do not fit the norm and who do not accept the available boxes and pigeonholes?

Answer that question and you can build a school, a nation, or a world on it.

What was my answer? Every once in a while I say the right thing. "The Mermaid stands right here by the King Of The Sea," says I. (Yes, right here by the King's fool, I thought to myself).

So we stood there hand in hand reviewing the troupes of Wizards and Giants and Dwarves as they roiled by in wild disarray. It is not true, by the way, that Mermaids do not exist. I know at least one personally. I have held her hand.