Thinking About Bubbles' Hopeful Speech in “The Wire”

In what was a beautifully written show, full of characters who are strikingly and perhaps surprisingly eloquent, Bubbles stands tall among all of them. All throughout the sixty episodes we get the distinct impression that, though he fits in rather well and survives in his own world, the seedy underbelly of the Baltimore drug trade, we also can't help but wonder how, all things considered, Bubbles is just a normal man caught up in a very bad situation. In fact, he's a good man, a smart man, a kind man... He could well be the heart of The Wire, what with his street wisdom and off-the-cuff poetry and all, which is a truly remarkable sight and, though the show is often pessimistic in a way that is sadly commensurate with reality, it also leaves us with a very hopeful finale for ol' Bubs. Because even stuck in between the needle, the bullet, the fist, or even just the stone cold of a Baltimore winter, he perseveres, even maintaining his upbeat demeanor in dire circumstances, and after finally losing it and becoming a shell of his former smiling self, we are left with the thought that he will one day truly overcome it all. Because as he himself once said – Thin line between heaven and here...

As for me I've been thinking about Bubbles' final speech lately, from episode [509] Late Editions, the penultimate episode of the entire show. In that scene we are confronted with a man who, after a lifelong struggle with addiction, and a renewed struggle to stay clean, still made countless mistakes, one of which ended up costing the life of a dear friend of his. And while most of the other characters proudly boast about their body count, Bubbles carried his friend's accidental death as a cross he will always have to carry, as something he could never, and will never, forget. We're obviously talking about grief, and while the modern understanding of it appears to be all about simply forgetting it and moving on for the sake of one's own mental fortitude, Bubbles has a starkly different idea, he instead hopes to never forget his grief, to always hold on to it, but to also find a place for the good things in life... But I'm getting way ahead of myself. I'll transcribe and break the speech apart a little bit, starting with,

My name is... My name is... Reginald. Round the way they call me Bubbles. I'm a drug addict... celebratin' my anniversary.

Just before the beginning of the speech, Bubbles is being followed by a news reporter who more or less accidentally reveals his true name to his sponsor, who had been supporting Bubbles for so long without ever knowing his christian name, knowing him instead only by his street nickname, which kinda makes sense because, as we've seen before in the show, street nicknames are often truer than real names. So in the beginning of the speech Bubbles hesitates, almost as if trying to find his true identity amidst whichever home his heart belongs to the most. Bubbles is a name that belongs to the needle but Reginald is a name that belongs to hope. And that's what's caught up in this very brief intro, namely his admission that though he's a drug addict he has managed to remain clean for one whole year, which he reveals to echoed applause in a church.

My people couldn't make it here tonight. I left a trail of fire behind me. Time gonna make it right with them, I guess. Same thing get me right with myself... Coupla days ago I took a walk down in Druid Hill park, right when the sun was goin' down. You know how that time be like, the sun throwin' shadows an' all. Got me thinkin' about when I was a young man sittin' in that park. You know, watchin' the girls, smokin' on a little herb, drinkin' a cool beer... Y'all know where this is goin'...

They say old habits die hard but I'm beginning to think old habits never die. And the past, that one you never truly forget... But you can assume responsibility for it, which is what Bubbles does when eloquently acknowledging an empty seat where his people, namely his sister, would have been had she found it in her heart to forgive him for the sins of his past. She couldn't, at least not then, because that trail of fire goes too far back all through the years, but Bubbles does have hope that in time he will fix all things. It's difficult though, seemingly impossible in fact, because as much as he tries to escape his habits, his addiction simply won't let him. His old lifestyle still remains, he's in the same city, walking the same streets, talking to the same people, sitting in the same places. And addiction or no, everyone can understand falling into old habits, we all know that moment of briefly but so very strongly rediscovering an old memory, almost as if we dive underwater and our heart skips a beat. We just want to be there again, to feel that way, to chase that feeling...

Had this moment where, you know, I was wantin' to feel that way again. I remembered what y'all said and if the urge was to come, call a group member up and talk. First thing I called Walon up, him bein' my sponsor an' all. Turns out he's on a ride with his motorcycle club. So I pulled out that sheet that got passed out. Dialed a few numbers, couldn't get an answer. I left a coupla messages but nobody called me back. Well, anyway... I didn't get high.

He's still strong though, he struggles to fight off his addiction and goes to ask for help. But even without having to walk through a trail of fire, people aren't always there and they won't always be there. That's the thing with addiction, you can only stay in good company for so long, eventually you have to be left alone and it's only a matter of time until your addiction whispers – hey, are you still there?... Bubbles presents his search for help almost as a desperate plea, almost as something everyone else ought to be ashamed of, namely his sponsor who appears to hang his head in either shame or disapproval. But what could he have done? No longer live his own life, to never be away from Bubbles ever again for even a single minute? No, it just don't work that way, and in his darkest hour, Bubbles was all alone... But he stood tall.

See, I knew if I did I wouldn't get that good feelin' back that I was daydreamin' on. It got me thinkin' about a friend of mine. Boy named Sherrod. I been carryin' his passin' for a long while. Like that memory I had about those summer days in the park. But thinkin' on that made me smile. With Sherrod it's more of a hurt. But not as... not so bad like it was...

That good feeling any addiction promises is always false, it's fleeting, it's a memory, it's always better in the imagination than in reality. Bubbles knows this, we all know this, even if only rationally, and as sad as it is to believe, rationality fails us only all too often. And perhaps for the first time in his life, Bubbles preferred to accept grief, to truly face it, to learn to live with it even if it hurt badly, rather than momentarily numbing his pain with a needle only for it to come back later in full force, because it always, always does... In doing so, Bubbles remembers Sherrod, he remembers being the cause of the boy's death, even if by accident, a death caused by the unceasing appetite for drugs. And as effective as drugs can be at drowning that emerging grief, Bubbles will now reject them, he will accept any and all hurt until it doesn't hurt as much. He knows it will never truly stop hurting, and indeed it never should, but he will learn to live with it... And after a brief moment of tearful silence he discovers his words again, in the most beautiful idea that made me want to write this essay when he says,

Ain't no shame in holdin' on to grief... as long as you make room for other things too.

Now I don't care if you're as seasoned as Avon, as calculating as Stringer, as righteous as Omar, as cold as Marlo, or even as ruthless as Snoop, if that ending to Bubbles' speech doesn't make you tear up a bit then you have no heart, you're just like No-Heart Anthony...

In this moment Bubbles is as tough as can be, almost encouraged, I wanna say, by the beautiful heckle of “it's alright” coming from someone in the crowd. He will not fall into the weak-minded thinking of removing himself from the guilt, of distancing himself from the hurt he caused just because it's not conducive and pragmatic to packing up and moving forward. And in a world where washing one's hands of the guilt often comes easy, and that red water often comes cheap, Bubbles takes his full share of the blame and accepts he will carry it with him forever. But still, he will also not fall into pessimism, he will not use that weight he now carries as an excuse to return to his addiction nor to be a bad man. In a word, after all his hurt, after all the wasted years of his life, after all that fire he left behind, he will now build something good. Because love too is a fire.

And now, as an end to my own speech I'll steal Bubbles' final words and say,

So thank you for listenin'. Thank you for lettin' me share.

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