It starts simply enough. Two people (or one guy and his dog and a complete stranger) strike up a conversation in a coffee shop, brewery or bike shop.
Really?
Why, yes, it does happen. Random conversations between people who, for the moments they are together, talk, exchange words. You meet, converse, trade stories and say goodbye. Over the past few weeks as I’ve visited Tucson, I’ve run into these situations more than once. A few examples:
At a brewery in downtown, the young woman we sat down next to with the case of beer, related why she was in town. As she stroked Sally’s head, she said she was here to support her sister as they helped their mom through chemo. A few more minutes and I learned she was the former city manager of a Colorado city. I was a warm and polite exchange and had a beginning, a middle and an end.
The painter stood on a scaffold in front of a 2-story tall, 60-foot wide mural. Working away with spray cans and rags, he noticed when Sal and I approached. We complimented his work and asked a few questions. Then he offered, “Hi, my names’ Joe.” Seems he is one of the foremost mural painters in Tucson, Joe Pagac. Made the day’s social media posts interesting as I’ve been following his work for years.
On a Sunday afternoon, Sal and I (literally) stumbled into the repair shop of a bike shop near the university. The one we were looking for was closed but the side door of one down the street was open. We met Eric, the mechanic, who just happened to be a recent refugee from Desoto, Texas (near Dallas). He reassured me after a few minutes of comparing notes that Tucson was more bike friendly than Dallas.
Visited more bike shops and found how differently each answered the question, “Do you lead a ride from this shop?” At one shop, the owner even opened his laptop and showed me the website of a local riding group.
As regular visitors to the local Starbucks, Sal and I are on a first-name basis with the baristas. One even went so far as to tell me my dog was better behaved that the local high schoolers who frequent the place.
Other random conversations? At a rally in Southeast Arizona in the spring, I met Patty, a retired nurse and local. We had a beer and a short conversation the first night of the 3-day rally. We traded phone numbers so we could exchange photos and perhaps help one another during the weekend. Little did I know that I would fall and break my collarbone the next day. After being brought back to my tent from the ER, I called Patty to inquire about if her hotel had any vacancies. Not only did she help me get a room, she helped me break camp and get prepared for the early return home. An angel who later became a friend.
Separate from the Tucson experience, this past summer I lost my 16-year-old terrier. Harry was a big part of our lives. The Saturday after he passed, Sal and I were visiting our local coffee shop. A pretty blonde woman of retirement age approached me and asked if she could pet Sal. Before I knew it Sal was being cradled in our new friend’s arms. We talked for two hours and it eased our sadness. Lani, her husband and I (and Sal) are now regulars at dog adoption events in Dallas.
The point of all this is that taking a moment to ask questions and let people into your space can go a long way towards easing anxiety, loneliness and suffering (by you and/or your conversant). This adventure in Tucson has opened my eyes (and ears) to the randomness of conversation and interaction. What it can result in. And the power of human interaction.
Besides, the possibilities are endless.
Relentless
