Here in the American South, folks frequently strike up conversations with strangers. It may happen while in a doctor’s waiting room or when standing in the check-out line at the supermarket, or as in my case today, while waiting for my car to be serviced. It usually starts out as small talk about the weather or something rather inane, and before you know it you’ve heard the other person’s entire life history. It’s just the way we are here.
And usually, we find out that we know someone in the other person’s family or someone who is their friend or acquaintance. Sometimes we even discover we are related to one another in some way.
This morning I was thinking about how we tend to do this, and sure enough, while my husband and I were waiting for the car to be worked on, I struck up a conversation with a man who also was waiting for his car to be serviced. Or he struck up a conversation with me. I don’t even know how we began talking or what the subject matter was. But by the time we left, I knew his entire life story, and he knew part of ours.
That’s just the way it happens. People acknowledge one another, and people are kind to one another. I think that’s a good way to be.