Connecting

It began when a woman about my age said she liked my outfit.  We were sitting in the doctor’s waiting room, she with her daughter and me with my husband.  I thanked her for the compliment noting this was the first time I’d worn these two vintage (actually just old) articles of clothing together.  With news of the latest mass shooting on the nearby TV, she commented that it was such a tragedy children couldn’t go to school these days without fear.  I nodded and she continued, saying that perhaps it was understandable.  When I asked what she meant, she said as a Christian, good and evil were ever present in our lives and we could only hope for good to prevail.  I nodded again suggesting gun control was certainly another factor.  She told me that her father owned a gun and never put it in a locked cabinet because as children, she and her siblings would never have thought to touch the weapon or ammunition.  

Thus began one of the most meaningful 20-30 minute conversations I’ve ever had with a complete stranger and her daughter.  Is it perhaps helpful to note they were African American, born and raised in the South?  With laughter, smiles, questions back and forth, and nods of agreement, our conversation covered many subjects:  being raised by a single parent (the daughter), parenting (all three of us), religion, race, public housing, income disparity, education, and politics.  

I only wish I had gotten her name and contact information before she left to see the doctor and my husband returned.  Powerfully inspired by this interaction I’m committed to being open to more opportunities like this, realizing how much I can learn from listening and learning from those who bring different experiences and perspectives than my own to important conversations.  

Touching

A few days after my friend Amy made me smile when she wrote about my drive-by hug I received this envelope in the mail. Kathryn and I were neighbors in the 1980’s and our sons (now in their 40’s) used to have play dates. After divorcing in the 1990’s she returned to college, earned a degree, and realized her dream of living in Africa.   A chronic illness prompted a move to Bangkok, Thailand where Kathryn continues to enjoy the life of an expat and Air BnB host.  We’ve stayed in touch through email and social media so I wondered about the handwritten communication - perhaps my upcoming milestone birthday?  She wrote to thank me for the small but apparently meaningful ways I supported her efforts to become the person she is today.  Reading and re-reading her note, I thought about the connection between significant objects and small gestures.  Both the artifacts and the touches can have powerful long-term impact.  Sometimes it’s simply a case of seeing the best in people when they don’t see the good in themselves.  I thought about the people whose small touches have stayed with me for many, many years – Georgia, Meg, Joanie, Cheryl, and so many others.  Touches can be comments, explanations, nods, suggestions, or simple hugs. They give pause for thought, prompt smiles, and last forever like an eternal time-release capsule, a precious gift indeed.

Aunts & Uncles

After we moved I decided to give my three nieces, daughter and daughter-in-law several spoons from this collection. Grandpa Ole’s sister, Tante Trine, gave us this traditional Norwegian pattern as a wedding present almost 50 years ago. 

My aunts and uncles were beloved.  Maybe I cherished them so much because I was cherished (along with my two younger brothers) for the first seven years of my life, before they began their own families, before we moved from the Pacific Northwest to suburban NYC. Together we road horses on Cannon Beach, sorted buttons, baked cookies, hiked trails, etc.  But most of all, they were present in my life, talking to me like I understood, and listening attentively to what I had to say. In hindsight I can see that they were able to fill in some gaps while my mother raised three active young children and my dad traveled for work. I always hoped that in different ways and given the challenges of distance I could be that kind of presence in my nieces’ and nephews’ lives.