The Book of Delights

While walking over a bridge, Gay notices a swarm of bees gathering around a gooey substance on the railing. He gets as close as he can and sees an even larger swarm beneath the bridge. He watches, fascinated by the pile of bees upon bees. As he watches, a construction worker approaches with a sign that reads: “Caution: Bees on Bridge” (178). This reminds Gay that, as part of working in a community orchard, the school board has refused the planting of a new orchard because of the bees the orchard would attract. Gay thinks this is ridiculous because bees do only good for the world. To Gay, the sign the worker unfolded tells the world that the bees belong here just as much as the people do.

Gay is surprised by the smiles he receives when carrying a tomato seedling through an airport. He got similar reactions when he carried a bouquet of lilies through the streets of Rome. People treat the tomato as if it was a baby, and the flight attendant even gives Gay a window seat so he and the tomato have more space. When Gay is given water, he gives some to the tomato, and when the plane flies through turbulence, he keeps his hand on the tomato’s container like a father stretching his arm across his child’s chest when hitting the brakes in a car without seatbelts. This is one of Gay’s favorite human gestures.

While “red-handed” means being caught in the act and being guilty of something, Gay is purple-handed from picking mulberries and plopping them into his mouth.

When meeting with friends, Gay notices that Kayte has filled out the identification information inside her book bag with her name and phone number. The last person Gay knew who labeled their belongings with their identification information was his friend Don, who seemed to be of another era. Seeing Kayte’s information reminds Gay of the faith in human decency, which is often, but not always, rewarded.

He remembers finding a wallet with $500 in it when he was a kid. He decided to keep it despite the identification inside the wallet. Now, however, Gay would have returned the wallet because he is a firm believer in common decency which grows with faith and belief, evidenced by Kayte’s decision to fill out her information in her bag.

While gardening, Gay listens to a podcast about Whitney Houston. Apparently, a TV show was made about her tumultuous relationship with Bobby Brown. Many people thought the show was great, which makes sense to Gay, who realizes that society loves watching Black people suffer. He believes that one of the objectives of popular culture is to intertwine Blackness and suffering so they are considered irremovable from each other. He thinks this is clever if one’s goal is to ruin Black people and make something that was systematic and intentional appear natural. The delight in this essay is that this book is a book full of the delights of a Black man, written daily.

Gay watches fireflies light up the space between trees and marvels at how ordinary the bugs seem before they begin to glow. He has a memory of his father taking him and his brother to the field behind their apartment complex where Gay saw fireflies light up the dark for the first time, though he didn’t know what caused the flashing then. He thinks there is a profound lesson in witnessing unfathomable beauty while holding a father’s hand.

Gay’s friend Jack has fashioned the handle of a scythe for Gay to use left-handed. While Gay acknowledges that a lawnmower is a useful tool, he prefers his scythe, which is silent and can smoothly cut the tall grass in his garden right up to the trunk of the walnut tree, or the edge of the woodpile, because of its unique shape. He thinks this explains why the grim reaper uses a scythe and not a lawnmower.

Gay bikes around his campus in search of a pawpaw grove, which is a tropical-tasting fruit native to the Midwest United States. Last year, Gay’s friend Julie found the pawpaw grove but refused to tell where it was, reminding Gay of the dreams he used to have of treasure, usually silver coins in large wooden chests. Now, the treasure in Gay’s dreams is often a veggie burger in a café he cannot remember how to get to, or a football game he is consistently late for.

In addition to the delight of the pawpaw grove, Gay finds delight in spotting the fruit which grows high in the tree, surrounded by leaves. This encourages pointing, a human gesture that Gay loves to celebrate as it feels like a miracle to draw an invisible line from his finger to the hidden fruit in the trees.

A sign reading “No Soliciting, No Loitering” hangs in the window of a café in Detroit. Gay explores the definitions and synonyms of loitering, like lollygagging, loafing, ambling, etc. Each of these words implies being unproductive, which leads to being nonconsumptive, which is a crime in America. The darker your skin, the more criminal this activity seems.

Gay thinks of laughter and loitering to be closely related, which is why he has many memories of laughing loudly with his non-white friends in public spaces and being told to be quiet. Laughter makes consumption impossible. Gay thinks of a Carrie Mae Weems photograph of a Black woman working in a factory, taking a moment to laugh and throwing her arms out. Though he has seen the photograph many times, he always searches the background for the woman’s supervisor, wanting to warn her that she could get in trouble for enjoying a moment of nonconsumptive delight. Another synonym of loitering is taking one’s time which speaks of ownership and taking ownership of one’s time back from those who have assumed ownership of others’ time.

Gay examines the use of the word “touched” meaning “not right in the head” as he watches an elderly man ride a bike with two different-sized tires, streamers, and a propeller. The man smiles broadly at everyone he passes, and Gay realizes he is touched, just like the young man on campus who unabashedly started dancing when Billy Jean by Michael Jackson started playing and roller-skated past Gay’s window with a bunny tail affixed to the back of his pants. Gay realizes that “touched” can also mean enthusiasm or excitement, which can cause embarrassment to those watching. Gay realizes that this embarrassment is like tenderness because while he watches someone be “touched,” he also sees them be moved, and realizes the lack of movement in himself. This lack of movement in himself can hurt until he starts to view it as an opening.

Gay remembers when first watched The Exorcist with his mother and brother at nine years old. The movie terrified him for years. He watched it again at 26 when he realized that the movie which had terrified him for nearly 20 years was silly, freeing him from fear and allowing him to laugh during it.

Gay is harvesting his urine to provide essential nutrients to his garden, remembering how much of a role the human body plays in the nutrient cycle. He hasn’t used his urine to water his garden since the year he lived in New Jersey with Stephanie’s family. Once, he had collected his urine in an empty Gatorade bottle and left it in the cup holder of his car when picking Stephanie’s daughter up from an event. She uncapped the bottle and asked if she could have a sip, and Gay managed to grab the bottle without spilling any of the liquid and say, “You better not” (204). He provided no context, and they drove home in awkward silence.

While harvesting carrots from his garden, Gay uses the word “kind” to indicate which types of carrots he is harvesting. He does this intentionally, to remind himself of the kindness of the carrot (how yummy and nutritious it is) and how “kind” and “kin” are related words. To Gay, this means that those he is kind to are his kin. The magic of the carrot, which applies to all underground vegetables, is that it must be discovered and uncovered by someone, and then someone must decide which kind to continue planting and replanting, among which is the kind of red carrot Gay is holding.