Red Hair and a Little Burst

Last year, when studying at Johns Hopkins, I asked the security guard in the library-a woman in her sixties with dark brown hair-for directions. She smiled at me and she explained the way while still keeping watch over the entry gate to the library. I began to walk away, but she suddenly called me back over and told me how much she loved my hair and how I reminded her of her grandson. Taking her phone out of her pocket, she flipped open the cover to reveal a picture of a little boy with carrot-top red hair holding a large box adorned with bows and Christmas wrapping paper. I later walked from the library with a smile on my face for the kind security guard who had shared part of her life with me. Likewise, in her 2008 novel, Olive Kitteridge, Elizabeth Strout highlights the strain and trouble in relationships in the town of Crosby, Maine. The novelist specifically emphasizes her troubled yet extremely perceptive character, Olive Kitteridge, and Olive’s belief that while life depends on big relationships, such as marriages and between a parent and children, small affinities that she calls “little bursts” also prove important (68). I agree with this belief of Olive’s as I assert that these “little bursts” exist to balance and strengthen the larger relationships. For example, Olive defines a “little burst” as a “friendly clerk” or a “waitress…who knows how you like your coffee” (69). Strout directly characterizes small affinities as “friendly” and implies a certain intimacy, a full understanding of one small aspect of an individual’s life, through the image of the waitress. Therefore, by highlighting the positive connotation of “friendly”, Strout implies that these “little bursts” yield less hurt than larger relationships because small affinities do not require the deep understanding of each individual that larger affinities necessitate. “Little bursts” still prove important as they still require an understanding, and in turn, strengthen people in larger relationships’ ability to comprehend others. Furthermore, following her son’s wedding, Olive steals undergarments and marks the sweater of her know-it-all daughter-in-law, Suzanne, whom she hates, reflecting that the action gives Olive “a little burst” (74). Strout highlights that Olive receives a bit of intimacy with Suzanne through stealing as Olive may fully understand the self-doubt that the other woman receives from a marked sweater and missing undergarments. Therefore, the novelist implies that Olive’s “little burst” with her daughter-in-law limits the strain Suzanne’s self-assurance may have on Olive’s son and his wife.  Overall, I agree with Olive’s belief in the necessity of “little bursts” as they enable people to better understand each other, as no one can completely understand another person. I may never know more about the Hopkins security guard other than that her red-headed grandson’s eyes shine like Christmas lights as he opens presents. However, with that understanding, I may knowingly smile when my grandparents take out their cell phone to show others the picture of their red-headed grandchild, the one they know so well.