Talking to Strangers

 

                Honors Ninth graders are reading The Bean Trees by Barbara Kingsolver. Despite the fact that, as my favorite table observed, “Our parents read her books!”  it’s been a popular for several years.   It is easy language, a solid plot, fairly humorous (although the humor of my favorite scene, where Taylor visits the late-stage hippie house looking for a roommate is lost  in time now), and morally sound. Small acts of heroism and friendship keep us alive, every day. And the discussion of sanctuary and immigration feels very relevant once again. That’s all to come, though. Right now, several of them are pondering the notion that people, in the pre-cell phone world just…talked to strangers. In bars. On the street. In stores.

               

                I read an article in the New York Times, today, about group chats. The author is engaged in many, loves the connections, and was considering all of the different levels of communication involved, for constant to occasional, and what it all meant for communities and society. To be in constant communication with all of your friends, all the time…when she turned her phone off for two hours, she had over 200 chats to read when she returned. She felt positively about the venture.  As someone who has yet to break down and acquire a cell phone, it sounded exhausting. During the course of one class period (95 minutes), I probably process that many different direct requests for attention – both from me and from peers, which I can, for the most part, ignore—but the rhythm of live interactions feels different. More doable.

               

                Yesterday, Mark and I went out for lunch at the local pub on Monroe. We were sitting in our window booth, eating French fries, when a middle aged man slipped into the booth behind Mark. He had the weathered face of someone who spends most of his time outside, a large bag of stuff, and a reflective vest. One of the wait staff greeted him quietly, “Hey Joe, you want a Dr Pepper?” He nodded and sat, peacefully muttering to himself, while he thawed out. Over the course of the next twenty minutes, all of the staff checked in on him. He was clearly a Regular. Right before we moved to leave, he woke up and called to me over the bench.

 “Sorry bout talking to myself,” he said.

“Sometimes that’s the smartest person in the room, “ I replied. He laughed and we exchanged clichés on the weather while we pulled out our gear. Talking to strangers in public places.