Moondog

      

         I sat quietly on the steps of the St. Peters Evangelical Lutheran Church, observing a group of my Bowling Green peers. They were standing at the corner of the church, socializing, when one noticed the mural on the neighboring apartment building.

        “Awww…” one commented, directing the others’ attention to the mural. “Look!” The mural read “MOONDOG” in large letters on a pale yellow background, with winged dogs flying towards the sun. On the bottom right read the words “RIP WE ALL LOVE YOU.”  

        “Moondog?” another said. “RIP?…wow…he must have been one special dog to get a mural about him. I wonder what happened...”

        I listened as they walked away from the church, still commenting on the mural. Transfixed, I stared at the mysterious MOONDOG mural. I had a feeling that there was more to this mural than what met the eye. A few seconds later I saw the church’s janitor, Walter, appear in front of the steps. His peaceful, warming presence embraced me though we were meters apart.

        “Moondog…he was not a dog; he was a person,” Walter told me.

        The gears slowly turned in my head as I understood the implications of Walter’s statement in correlation with the RIP on the mural.

        “…Moondog was his name?” was the only question I could muster up, still working through what he said.

        “No no no,” Walter laughed, “Moondog was his nickname.” He paused and then pointed at the ground in front of the mural. “He was shot right here by a guy his age who lived in those buildings across the street. It was the ‘80s. In the ‘80s, you know, things were really bad around here then—the crack epidemic. It’s a lot better here now.”

        Walter shuffled his feet, brushing leaves off of the sidewalk. “Moondog was just a youngster...I think he was 18 when he was shot if I remember correctly.”

        “Walter…why was he killed?” I asked cautiously, wanting to know why Moondog was murdered.

        “Moondog? Moondog…he was shot over a girl.”

        Walter walked into the church, leaving me to sit in the mere memory of Moondog’s short, tragic life.

*  *  *

        I took this picture specifically to remember this moment on the South Bronx trip. For me, this moment was full of so many little nuances that really highlighted cultural differences and expectations. 

        One difference that struck me about this moment was the misinterpretation of the mural between my peers (and I) and the reality of the mural. We expected the mural to be a representation of a literal dog, as inferred from the “MOONDOG” and the three dogs flying to the sky. In reality, Moondog was the teen’s name, nicknames being incredibly common in this inner city community. I found this to be a fascinating moment as it showed to me that interpretation varies by culture. 

        From this interaction with Walter, I also learned the importance of not making assumptions about something based on my own frame of understanding. In addition, the interaction with Walter was a moment where I realized how different this world was from the one that I identify most with in Ohio. A teenager was murdered on a building corner that I was sitting next to. The reality of that statement simply boggled/still boggles my mind. 

        Hearing about Moondog was one of the moments on the trip where I really began to grasp the different realities of life in the Bronx from the realities of life in Bowling Green.