How not to communicate

 

Hayter for February 2, 2025

“Are You Talkin’ to Me?”

Talking, when used wisely, can pick a person right up. – “Margaret, how have you been feeling?” or  “Sure you can borrow my lawnmower. It’s on my back porch.” Comments like that show love and concern. Keep in mind they’re merely examples. And, no, you can't borrow my lawnmower. 

  Me? I’ve done a lotta talking in my day. As a teacher, I probably lectured more than I should’ve. When I came home from school, I didn’t have all that much to say. I would generally ask Kay how her day went, and on occasion, she would unload. Kay was responsible for participating in several programs going on in the Conroe ISD. My wife is the kindest person you’d ever want to meet. Of course, on occasion, she aired out a bunch of verbal laundry when she got home. She always talked in generalities. Nothing particular. She just needed a listener, not a solver. We all go through that.

   When I retired from teaching, I didn’t talk nearly as much. Just last week we were in HEB because we needed to get some vaccinations. Kay wanted a flu shot and knew that I did too. I also needed another shot for… I can’t remember what it was.

As I waited in the pharmacy for my shots, Kay walked up to me from around the corner, and said, “Hey, come on, you need your driver’s license and health card.” While following her to the other side of the pharmacy I passed a young man who was waiting in line for a prescription.  “Did you hear the way she talked to me?” The guy grinned, “Oh, yeah. She means business.” I’ll never see the guy again, but for one brief moment, an exchange of words connected the two of us.

“Big whoop”, you say? Well, it conceivably could be. You never know when a stranger might need a light moment to get his mind off of a worrisome situation. If nothing else, while standing in a line with strangers, someone took notice of him.

 Last Tuesday I was sitting in a waiting room at Conroe’s Houston Eye Associates. A nice place, with a great staff that listens to the worst country western music on the planet. It’s the voice of Twang! The same loud, nose-singing tune that I get to listen to once every two months, as I sit waiting to get a shot in my eyeball. I don’t know which experience is worse.

After my check-in, a young man took me to have my eyeball screened. (I don’t know what that is.) He’s always jovial and goes out of his way to take my mind off my upcoming procedure. We generally have a good conversation, each of us asking the other questions about the latest of life’s events.

After that episode, I was led to a small inner waiting room where three ladies were seated. I delivered my howdies and sat down to work on my crossword puzzle. Again, the music grabbed hold of my brain and forced me to listen. Was I the only one being tortured? Did no one else feel the pain?

After a couple of minutes, I raised my voice so I could be heard through the music. I said, “Each person in this room is talented enough to make a record that could get played on that radio station.” How would it go over? Would I hear the whisper, “He must not have had his coffee.”

But, no! They laughed. It was so refreshing that each of us in the room shared the same torture. I was not alone! At one point, a lady in the room asked if I was Mark. I seldom get noticed. And after a decade I regretfully still resemble my photo. Regardless, a bond of sorts was formed in the waiting room. A moment of commonality. Togetherness, if you will. That being said, I was the only one in the room who had to get a needle in the eyeball.

Please know that I am not encouraging anyone to start up a conversation with just anybody. Most of the time, I can spot a person who might appreciate a greeting of some kind. Of course, if God is my sole guidance, sometimes He is responsible for me choosing the wrong person to interrupt. A new lesson learned.

A few of my bad experiences have occurred while trying to be jovial with someone. For some reason, women don’t feel all that threatened by me. Well in one of my episodes, I was in a grocery store staring at 146 varieties of breakfast cereal, and a guy was about to walk past. I judged him poorly. I said, “Sir, if you go down aisle seven, would you tell my wife that I need help picking out her cereal.” I simply misjudged the original look that I noticed on the man’s face. The look changed immediately upon my request. Then he was gone. For all I know he was Richard Kimble.

These are mere examples of communication between strangers. In most cases, I believe them to be uplifting. In a few cases, you may start a conversation with someone who is going to really put you down. I am not a great example of anything, but I do believe sharing a word or two with a stranger is, for the most part, worth the risk.

end

hayter.mark@gmail.com