You can say this for Pingping: Even at 2'5", he stood out.
Or, rather, he stood out because he was 2'5", the world's shortest man.
Pingping had travelled from China to Rome for a television appearance this month when he was taken to hospital with chest pains. He died there at age 21. Might have had something to do with being a chain smoker since age seven.
For real.
They say Pingping loved the stature he derived from his size, or lack thereof, and why not? It's not easy to break away from the herd in a nation of 1.3 billion people, let alone a planet of 6.7 billion. It's not easy to be different.
Alas, even in a country as sparsely populated as Canada, the average person is, well, average, which equals invisible. Neither rich enough nor poor enough to draw attention, neither good looking enough to stare at nor homely enough to make babies cry. Just another tree in the forest, unremarkable in every way.
What does invisible look like? The median age in Canada is 40.4 years for women and 38.6 for men. They live in a household of 2.5 people, earning $53,634 between them, according to Statistics Canada.
Probably a little chubby, too, according to the health surveys. The average Canadian woman stands 5' 31/2", weighs 153 pounds. The average man stands 5' 81/2, weighs 182 pounds.
The typical Canadian drives 18,000 kilometres a year, pays $7,500 annually to own a car, wastes an hour a day commuting. We watch 21.4 hours of television a week, spend another 14 on line, plus three more volunteering. We give $437 a year to charity, pay $550 in cellphone bills, fork over $150 in bank fees and drop a mere $250 on reading materials.
We each spend $8,644 on food each year, eat out 11 times every two weeks, consume 32 kilograms of potatoes, 14 dozen eggs, 92 litres of milk and 86 litres of coffee annually.
Our personal debt is roughly $24,000 per capita, almost half the amount carried by Americans, and we average 19 days of paid vacation a year, less than just about anyone else in the developed world. But we consume more energy per person than anyone else on Earth, which must make David Suzuki want to throw up his arms in disgust and drive a Hummer off a cliff.
At least Suzuki isn't just another sheep in the flock. Jeez, some of us couldn't leave an impression even if you dropped us from a helicopter into wet cement. A frustrated cartoonist once complained that I wouldn't stand out in a crowd if I were alone in the room.
Alas, the inside isn't any more intriguing than the outside, either. I have actually instructed my friends to lie about me, to make up some interesting bits, some imaginary grain elevators to break the unrelieved tedium of my personal prairie horizon: "Yes, he is fun at parties. Odd, heroin usually has the opposite effect."
Or "Don't mind the spelling mistakes, it's amazing that he can type at all with that artificial hand."
Or "Bad grammar? Well, he spoke no English until age 27. Still dreams in Nepali, though."
Asked to describe me in one word, someone came up with "dependable," which almost broke my heart. What about "dangerous" or "unpredictable" (I do plan to be spontaneous some day) or "eye candy" (I know, I know: that's two words)? The only word worse than "dependable" would be -- dear Lord -- "average."
To repeat, average equals invisibility. In the Age of Celebrity, anonymity is, if not a sin, then at least a failing. Better to be Balloon Boy famous than to drift through life unrecognized.
Which is how, somehow, we have grown to confuse fame with value.
The other day, I read a story about a man you have never heard of, Dr. David Lai, a Hong Kong-born academic and author who has spent four decades quietly, humbly building bridges between all the average, dissimilar people of Canada. He has never sought any credit; all he seeks is more harmony among humans.
Want to be different? Don't be famous. Be David Lai.
