Where Do They Come From?

 

I must have that face that attracts these strangers. I learned at an early age how to converse with strangers, but those were at cocktail parties or formal dinners. Mostly small talk, but I could have a pleasant conversation.

I learned public speaking and was never afraid of the stage in front of an audience who didn’t know me. I even played my guitar to dancers, not so much to entertain them, but to play the music.

The city’s Department of Emergency Communications, Preparedness, and Response (DECPR) calls these interactions as ‘mental’ subjects. It is hard to tell these days of people walking around talking to themselves as a mental subject or on the phone? I hear the voices in my head, but don’t talk out loud to them until I get home.

I’m venerable when I’m in the open locking up my pony at the Tummy Temple. Alone and in the view of whoever wants to come up and converse. So far, I’ve not felt threatened.

If someone comes up and ask for money, I point them to the sign that says “No Soliciting” and move on. If someone ask for a donation to some cause, I explain that I make all my donations at the first of the year and then move on. If someone ask if they can have one of my beers, I point them to the door and say, “they have lots of beer in there” and then move on.

Some folks pass by and comment on an ole guy riding a bike, but they are brief comments with a pleasant smile. Some folks want to stop and tell a story.

I may shake a hand, but I’m not a hugger so I keep my distance. I’ll listen to whatever story they want to tell. I’ll compare notes but nothing personal. These are the same conversations I have with my neighbors. They don’t need to know anything about me and I don’t care to know their personal details or family drama.

So where do they come from?

Do I have a friendly face that makes the mothers pushing their babies smile on my ride? Do I have that weathered hobo look that people want to tell stories to?

I’ve always been shy and never forward enough to talk to a stranger unwelcomed. Most of my relationships I was persuaded into.

If you come up to me and start a conversation, I’ll be polite enough to listen for a while. I’ll try not to be rude, but I’ll end the endless chatter by excusing myself with another appointment and ride away.