Just as I was finishing getting dressed in the YMCA locker room, this old black woman walks in with her walker, and starts talking to me, and telling me that she is 96 year old, and that she was on TV this morning. The local station did a segment on her, as part of a series on the new President’s inauguration Tuesday. Juanita is no ordinary lady. She is the oldest African-American in our county, and was born in 1913, in Oklahoma City. I find the fact that Juanita witnessed so much of our American history, and lived long enough to be a part of Tuesday’s celebration, incredibly moving. We probably spent a few minutes together, at the most, and I may never see her again. Yet, that random connection with her was filled with meaning, and I am not about to forget it any time soon.
Juanita made me think of the many connections I have made on the Web with perfect strangers. Fleeting encounters, often times with no follow up, and yet precious. Tweets sending me support when I felt down, or answering a question just when I needed it. Comments on my blog that made me think, this person and I are made of the same cloth. Moments shared during the Presidential campaign, on Twitter 2008 Election. I have been asked how can I be following 2,000 people on Twitter? My answer is, precisely for the chance of these random connections. Time limited exchanges packed with feelings, or thoughts, and during which I was able to give and/or receive lots.
As the world becomes more and more one, and technology breaks down the barriers of communication, it is my sense that random connections on the Web will take more and more space in our lives. What we may give up in continuity, we gain in in the moment experiences.
Dear Lamarguerite,
James O’Reilly, just referred me to your site. Loved your example and your description of it. I believe James indicated that I have experienced and have written about profound single encounters. I’m submitting below, a sample account.
My best to you, buzz
ONCE…UPON A MATTRESS
A colleague and friend, Reverend Virginia Wheeler, describes in the following account a moment in time when one encounter with a total stranger in an unexpected setting brought instant and yet complete joy and affirmation to her life in the span of an hour.
“The mattress was firm and secure, the way a mattress should feel, but still I felt despair and fear sweep through me. A 13-year marriage had ended, leaving me with two small boys and furnishings for one-half a household. I had surrendered the bedroom set, which explained why I was in the middle of a mattress store feeling a bit like Sleeping Beauty. An opportunistic and pushy salesman after hearing my plight encouraged me to try out a king-sized mattress saying, ‘You’re not so bad looking – you’ll fill it up one day.’ So, there I lay in the middle of a furniture store on Balboa Blvd. in San Diego, California, wondering whether I would ever feel hope again.”
Lost in my thoughts, I hardly noticed the older man being guided on to my same bed by the salesman. The stranger had some of the same telltale signs of loss, the wistfulness, the sadness in his eyes, the sense of disconnection. With false bravado and shielding my embarrassment I inquired, ‘What brings a nice guy like you to a place like this?’”
He replied with deep sadness, ‘My wife died recently and I have to replace our bed.’ His look of despair said it all.
He politely inquired, ‘And you?’
‘My husband and I are divorcing. He is moving eastward, with the bed.’ He smiled a sorrow-filled smile, and for a moment I felt closer to this man than anyone else in a long time. Then the conversation began.
I asked how many years he had been married.”
He replied, ‘She had been my best friend for 51 years. She had cancer, a long illness.’ He talked on and on, telling me of their years together, the good times and the hard times. She’d helped him to sobriety –through the loss of a young son. I told him of the loneliness of being married to a Naval officer, the separations, absences on holidays and at babies births, living the parallel lives until there was no life. We lay there, together, engulfed in silence.”
Eventually I asked, ‘What will you miss most?’’
Instantly he brightened and replied, ‘Oh, the ballroom dancing at the Pavilion on Fridays. We loved dancing. We danced all our lives until the end when she was too ill. She loved to be dipped!’’
I said, ‘I imagine you will be able to find a partner to dance again.’’
Shaking his head, he said he didn’t really care to at that moment in time, but maybe…
Turning to me, he asked what I was looking forward to. I told him that my small sons gave me great delight and I was going to sell the house and find a new place. And put up pink wallpaper with flowers. There was a possibility of meeting new people now and I might even try golf. I had always wanted to take golf lessons.”
Strangely, I began to feel better. I told him so. Smiling, he said he was feeling more positive too. It was as though we met as soul mates – experiencing a connection, an intimacy so deep and familiar. He spoke then, saying he might go to his friends in Washington to do some ‘serious fishing’ as his wife had never care for fishing, then to cruise to Greece. He had always wanted to go there. He spoke of his depression, but also of an inner faith that reminded him of new possibilities and fresh beginnings.”
I told him I thought he would find joy again. He encouraged me too, saying, ‘Life is a cycle – hold on tight – soon you’ll be headed upward.’ As we confided to one another and cheered one another, our encouragement raised our own spirits.”
Just as suddenly as we began our conversation, we stopped. I discovered we had been laying together for over an hour! Sheepishly I moved to the edge of the bed and awkwardly got on my feet. Helping him up, I self-consciously said, ‘Thank you for your words of hope.’”
Smiling, he said it had been a pleasure and then thanked me for helping him too! We stood in uneasy silence. How do you say goodbye to a person you had known only a little over an hour, but felt like it had been a lifetime? Something more had to be done. Just then, I became aware of the store’s music wafting over the speakers. A waltz! Turning to my friend, I asked, ‘How about a turn around the dance floor before we go?’”
Grinning now, he took me in his arms, swirled me through the mattress section and over to the dining area with grace and style and ending with a dip. We laughed together and departed alone. I didn’t know his name nor he mine, but in a way he changed my life that day.”
Thanks James. Thanks Buzz.
What a beautiful story!
Nice Post and very truly writen.
Thanks.
” Hi I found this site by mistake when i was searching bing for lightweight sleeping bage that I had already purchased, I have to
What was I like as a baby? As a young child?