Everyday People

I am fascinated by people. I love them -- I love us. I love shared moments with strangers. Not THAT kind. Not the being-felt-up-on-public-transportation kind, or the quicky-in-the-unisex-bathroom-kind (not that I would know anything about that), but more like what happened today in Target. Somewhere, a child I couldn't see was singing very loudly her own song -- the only lyrics seemed to be "I love the holiday season", which she just kept singing, making up her own melody as she went along, carefree as can be. I happened to glance up and made eye-contact with two women shopping an aisle from me -- we smiled at each other and began to laugh. It was a nice moment -- for just a minute or so, we got out of our own heads and thoughts and acknowledged something sweet and joyful happening in our midst.

I'm taking a Biology class on Saturday mornings from 9am - 2pm in preparation for a possible career change that may or not be coming down the pike depending on a bunch of variables. The class is a great mix of younger students and women my age. The class is taught by a young woman from Ireland, one of the students in the class is from England, one is from Bosnia, and one is from Nigeria (that's just the international students I know of). I've had an opportunity to chat with a number of the students -- particularly the ones around my age, and I love hearing their stories. Jackie worked on the assembly line at the Chrysler plant until they closed. She's my lab partner, and on the first day of class, she said she was scared she wouldn't be able to do this -- that it would be too hard and she just wasn't smart enough. But she stuck it out, and half-way through the semester, she's doing great. Beth is my age, and thinking of going into the same program as I am (Occupational Therapy Assistant). She came to class a few weeks ago, just two days after losing her mother to complications from diabetes, because she didn't want to miss class. Svetlana is from Bosnia, where most of her family still lives. She lives with her mother and young daughter, having lost her husband two years ago to pancreatic cancer. She told me that although she knows life would be easier for her if she moved back to Bosnia, she wants to stay in the States so that her daughter will have more opportunities.

Last night, I had the privilege of working an Indian wedding reception (one of my multiple jobs right now is working for a catering company). I say that it was a privilege because I look upon any opportunity to be a part of a different culture's traditions -- even if only in a very peripheral way -- to be a privilege. The place was full of women in beautiful, elaborate dresses and saris, and men in suits. The women seemed to mostly cluster together on one side of the room, and the men on the other. Some of the them must have been Muslim, because a group of women went up to the mezzanine level, out of the way of the drinks and hors d'oeuvre, took off their shoes, placed a tablecloth on the floor and began to pray. Soon after they finished, a large group of men came to the same place, and went through the same ritual. One man missed the prayers, and later went up to pray alone -- he asked me if I remembered which way the men faced when they prayed? I remembered, and showed him. Later, after dinner, a band of traditional musicians came to the stage and played and sang for a few hours. They wore bright tunics, and sat on the stage floor, on cushions. The music and singing was amazing. There was no dancing -- the guests pulled their chairs closer to the stage and listened and sometimes clapped along and shouted out approval (at least, that's what it sounded like to me).

If you know me (and if you're reading this blog, you do), you probably also know that I post a lot of political stuff on facebook. You know my politics (whether you want to or not). You know that I'm a liberal Democrat and I don't have a lot of love for the Republican party. But maybe what I don't say enough is that, when it comes to day to day interactions with people, politics doesn't much come into play. The strangers at Target that I shared a moment with, the women in my Biology class, the Indian/Muslim/Hindu guests at the reception -- I don't know their politics, and I don't care. They're all people -- flawed, hopeful, beautiful, sad, joyful, full of good intentions, sometimes kind and compassionate, sometimes angry and fearful. They're all trying to make their way in this world, just like me. Just like you. Might as well relax and be friendly.