There’s something about me that draws people who want to talk. They can’t wait to tell me their obsessions and life stories. Whether I respond doesn’t matter so much as that I hear them. They don’t realize that, even though I may look like a bald Jewish therapist with a beard—I’m not. But they see me that way.
These encounters typically happen
on public transit or places where I can’t easily get away. The topics range
from scary to engaging. I once had an elderly woman grab my arm and say, “Help
me across the street.” So I did. That charmed me. And I like to help tourists
who I can tell are befuddled with a subway map.
Usually I’ll listen because the
world is full of lonely people, and if somebody wants to connect for 30 minutes
on the train, I’m up for that. You never know where a chat will go, Sometimes
we even exchange business cards.
But the conversations can turn
ominous. When I lived in a New York suburb and commuted, I once sat across from
a man who exuded tension and repressed anger. His mutterings about the 2008
recession and the source of problems in suburban schools signaled that.
I declined to engage and he said
in an aggrieved tone, “Well, I see you just want to read your book.” He’d be
quiet for a station or two and then he’d start again. I didn’t answer anything
about who I was, where I lived, what I do for a living. My great fear was we’d
both get off at the same station and then our cars would be parked side by
side, and he’d harangue me all the way to the parking lot.
Then there was the time I was on
a tour bus in Israel, again reading, when a man across the aisle asks me what
time it was, an obvious opening gambit. I told him and he was off and running.
He was from Australia, and now was visiting Israel. He ranted about the sign of
the beast and the Apocalypse. And I thought, “Whooah, warning, warning.”
Then he asked, “So, sir, what
religion are you?”
I wasn’t gonna go there. I told
him, “I don’t want to talk about my religion, and I’m going to get back to
reading my book.” So that was that.
Sometimes, however, a
conversation catches my attention. I’m empathetic and I’ll think, let’s see
what connects. You talk to me, I’ll talk to you. My favorites? When men (always
men) notice the camera I often carry with me, my trusty Sony A5000, and ask me
about it. Bingo! Because I love to talk about cameras and creativity.
Now, I moved to Reading from
Katonah, New York, in April. I have noticed how friendly and chatty people in
Massachusetts are. Really! From the first minutes after I arrived, as I was
unpacking, I was able to talk to my neighbors. They have plenty of time and
good guidance on living here. At a condo shareholders meeting, I was charmed to
hear three of them chat about their families and number of grandchildren. One
invited my partner Naomi and me to see her apartment, which we did.
People here will strike up a conversation;
on the street, in a parking lot. Maybe right here tonight! For example, we were
in Marblehead a few weeks ago for the art festival. A woman sidled up to us to
talk about the weather and the festival. She mentioned she spends part of the
year living in Morocco. My flashed, “Alert, alert, she wants to talk about
Morocco.” As we wandered Marblehead, I asked for details and she happily
provided them.
My favorite story so far happened
a few Saturday evenings ago. I was approaching my apartment building and saw a
woman get out of her car and head toward the entrance. She tried to open the
door but couldn’t.
“I can get you in,” I said.
“I’m looking for the restaurant,”
she replied.
“Oh, Post 1917, that’s around the
corner. It’s easier for me to walk you there than give you directions.”
In her late 40s or early 50s, she was dressed for a festive social
occasion. As we walked over, she put her arm through mine and exclaimed, “Aren’t
you the gentleman!”
“I’m happy to help, it’s a little
hard to find.”
I opened the door and escorted her inside.
Before I could leave, she asked, “Can I get you a drink?”
I didn’t see that coming. With a sheepish smile I
politely declined and wished her a great evening. Whatever she had planned, I'm sure she had a memorable Saturday night.
Too bad I didn’t tell her to subscribe
to my YouTube channel! Maybe next time.
Welcome to Massachusetts: Where
the natives are friendly and appreciate gentlemanly behavior.
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