First things first: I'm flattered. It may be silly, but this is one of the greatest compliments I could imagine receiving, behind two prior remarks regarding my apparent ability to deal with whatever comes my way (one learns to take punches and work with the cards we've been dealt, really). The flattering factor here: what a fantastic thought. I do love talking to people - or, more importantly, listening to people. Anyone. They're just such fascinating creatures, aren't they? I'd love to think I have the ability to do this with relative ease... though I suppose the important part in this case truly is that other people think I have the ability to do this. (Too Machiavellian? In some cases, I really do have to agree with the man that what seems to be the case is more significant than what the case actually is.)
Next, the background: While applauding her latest Norwich blog, I commented that I enjoyed "living vicariously through you, my friend, as my adventures at the moment have been limited to occasional jaunts down to DC to meet up with an older Cuban fellow I met on the metro last spring... very unEnglish of me." Now, to be fair, he struck up that conversation, not I; I merely allowed for its continuance. ...And he did turn out to be a remarkably interesting person, at least in terms of background- father died somewhere in Central America fighting one thing or another (so detailed, right?), an only child orphaned relatively young, moved to Moldova with a few cousins for political asylum, then relocated to Canada, where he lived with an Iraqi family for eight years, now in DC working with home renovations while taking classes at George Washington for a law degree. Intriguing, no? If that isn't inspiration to talk to random people, I don't know what is.
The beauty of it is, though, that people don't have to have such absurdly colorful backgrounds to qualify them as worthy to listen to, much less particularly interesting. In fact, I'd hazard to guess that one could find something interesting in everyone - their story, what they do and what they've done, where they've been and where they're going, who they are and who they've known... and the beat goes on. I firmly believe that even the dullest person out there has some interesting quirk about them - even if it is puzzling over how they came to be so horrendously dull. Sometimes they can surprise you... for better or for worse.
For better: owner of Larry's Ice Cream off of Dupont Circle, one of my absolute favorite people in the greater DC area. Name: Jimmy. Country of origin: Turkey. Dubbed by the Washington Post: "the Scoop Nazi" (Seinfeld, for those of you missing the reference). Why a man named Jimmy owns an eatery named Larry's: that's what it was when he purchased it and he just didn't feel like changing the name. Some people find him terribly rude and inappropriate, but I find him hilariously sarcastic, blunt, and endearing to no end. Happily, the feeling is mutual, as he's dubbed me his girlfriend, gives me extra ice cream, and ignores waiting customers to chat with me over the counter - even when I've just dropped in to say hello. (Note: one of those reviews, admittedly, is from me. Can you guess which? hint: I've never tried the cupcakes.)For worse: the vice principal of my public middle school in small town PA, a former Benedictine nun. Source of knowledge: I was recommended as responsible enough to dog sit (3 fantastic labs) while she attended an event one night... and other nights, though I had the good sense to reject her after the first. Cause of distress: half-cooked chicken left sitting on the counter, fruit and vegetable crispers filled to the brim with beer, freezer full of pizzas, and, the last straw, underwear strewn across the staircase. I vowed never to return as I took a flying leap over the old woman undergarments, and it's a vow I've had no trouble holding to.
And on that note, it is most definitely time to get back to the work at hand. Moral of the story, if I had to boil down all this verbosity and relatively needless detail: let's do ourselves a favor and take a moment to listen to people. You might be surprised by how wonderfully interesting - or at least entertaining - they can be.
...Ooh, no, afterthought: also important to note that, of course, people enjoy being listened to; it's good for the soul. All the more reason to take a moment and listen. Once, while I was sitting deep in conversation at the fountain in Dupont Circle, a homeless man appealed to a pair sitting nearby, only to be met with the most frustratingly patronizing and simplistic outlook on life and moral guide I've heard in quite some time - I was fit to burst, as was noted by the observant fellow sitting next to me. He could see it in my eyes, I suppose. Thankfully, the daft pair ultimately ceased their haranguing and we beckoned the man over to give him what food we had, an orange I'd been carrying around with me that day... and soon enough, we were listening. I'll never understand what that man had been through, but I'd like to think it'd helped him in even the tiniest way, in that one moment, to share his thoughts with others rather than be talked down to. After another moment and a hug, he was off, and we were back to the fountain, now lost in thought as we considered what'd just happened. Turned out to be a perfect evening.
No comments:
Post a Comment