BoomerGirl Diary

Does anybody else have my problem? It's hard to describe, but basically people talk to me. I mean all kinds of people. This has been going on for years. When I lived in Kentucky, it happened all the time. I remember a typical situation. I was sitting on a park bench in downtown Lexington. I was minding my own business, drinking a couple of diet cokes. A well-dressed middle-aged woman sat down.

She turned towards me, "Hi, how are you?"

"Okay," I said and turned to my book.

"Are you a student?" She asked.

I nodded.

"I loved being a student. You know that's when I was happiest."

I nodded.

"Now, I don't know. I've got everything — nice house, car ... but I'm not really happy ... " She gazed into the distance.

I just sat there, afraid to get up. Then she left.

Now if this happened once I'd barely notice it, but it happens all the time. I'm sitting around, shopping, swinging my grandkids at the park, or waiting in line anywhere. People start little conversations with me. It's been this way for at least 30 years. Just recently I gathered four pairs of black pants and headed for the fitting rooms at Target. The attendant handed me a number 4 and before I could enter the available room, she began a conversation.

"You have kids?"

"Yeah."

"They are so expensive ... I'm really worried. My boyfriend lost his job and me and my son really need his money ... "

"Oh, that's too bad."

I entered the fitting room, hoping that these new pants would be totally slenderizing. I'd suddenly look like a waif or at least average. One of the pants wasn't too bad.

"How'd they work out?" The attendant asked.

"One of them was great," I said.

"Well, it's supposed to be a good day. I'm picking up my son early to go to the park."

"That sounds fun ... Good luck ... Maybe things will work out," I say as I swing my cart towards the checkout line.

I wonder, am I wearing a sign that says, "Talk to me. I love to talk to strangers." If you are still not convinced that I have a problem, I've got two extreme examples from my past history.

I was at a park in Lexington, just gathering my books and kids' stuff together, ready to leave when a streaker went by. I am not kidding. A real streaker with no clothes on.

He stopped next to me, "Are you a big reader or something?"

"Not really." Luckily Arna (about 5) was occupied by his final trip down the sliding board.

"I like to read too," the streaker said. "But don't you think it gets lonely sometimes?"

"Yeah, I guess." I realized that the streaker had actually put on his jacket that he was carrying. He moved on after this quick conversation ...

Again, was I wearing a sign or what? Another strange incident occurred even farther back when I was hitchhiking to work a long, long time ago. This was when hitchhiking in a small town like Columbus was safe, I tell my kids. I was just trying to get to work, a short trip of about 2 miles. A guy stopped to pick me up and seemed really nervous.

"My dad is in insulin shock so I'm really on my way to the pharmacy."

I was thinking, "What did you stop for?" But of course I didn't want to make him more upset, "That's too bad. I need to get out at the next corner."

"Yeah, I'm really worried about him."

"Hope he does okay ... Thanks for the ride."

So even from the side of the road someone decided to pick me up to have a conversation. Why me? Do I look super normal or safe?.

For years I've spent a lot of time at the grocery store. Here's a typical trip. The cashier says, "Looks like you're having company."

"Yeah."

"I've never really tried whole wheat pasta. Is it any good?"

"It's pretty good with a lot of cheese."

"We're so busy all the time. But believe it or not, my husband likes to cook dinner some nights."

"That's nice."

"Yeah, saves money so we're not going to fast foods."

"You want plastic, don't you?"

"Sure."

"I've got three kids, one teenager. Boy, he eats a lot."

"That's hard."

"$56.43, you saved $l.80."

I don't mind all of these conversations. I just wonder, why me? You may think that I just run into people who talk to everybody. Not so. I have done surveillance on my grocery cashier and the fitting room attendant at Target. Neither of these women talk to customers. They just talk to me. I've also followed students who talked to me to see if they talk to other people. Not happening. People even talk to me at Best Buy where everybody seems anxious for the next sale. The other day I was looking for a cell phone re-charger because I left mine somewhere between here and Iowa.

I explain my predicament to the sales guy and he leads me over to the correct one. He stands there, "Do you need any more help?"

"No, thanks."

"I lost my re-charger once."

"Yeah?"

"I really think somebody stole it from me. It was when I was a freshman at KU and my roommate had some sketchy friends ... you pay up front."

People always talking to me has some small benefits, I have to admit. It's rarely boring when I go places. At the grocery one of the cashiers gives me updates on her life. I nod when I push my groceries forward and she begins, "Hey, we're close to finished on the addition to our house."

"Yeah, that's good."

"We have fenced in an area and we're keeping dogs for people. But they have to try out and make sure they get along with our dogs."

"Yeah."

"Grandkids coming?"

"Yeah."

"They like this grape-apple juice combination? We've never tried that."

"Yeah, they do."

"Maybe another week. It'll be so nice to be done with construction. Have more room. Especially if the weather holds out."

"Good luck."

I have been hearing little tidbits about the new addition for months. I'm so happy that it's nearly finished. Now I'll probably hear updates on the dog business. All of this isn't so bad when you're just waiting for your groceries to be totaled and bagged. Often the bagger adds his two cents worth,

"Still cold out there?"

"Yeah, it's cold."

"Guess I'll be pretty cold on my bike riding home, but that don't really bother me."

"Yeah."

"You know I bought a new house about one mile away from here."

"Good, sounds good."

I load up my groceries and head home. I'll get a new installment the next time I need milk. Why do people just start talking to me all the time? I mean all kinds of people: waitresses, cashiers, dog walkers, parking attendants, custodians, security guards. You name it — they always talk to me.

Maybe it's because I am messy. When I'm cooking I'll drip some sauce or flour on my pants. I usually don't notice until I'm at the store. Being a little messy makes people feel like it's okay to talk to you because if you were prissy you wouldn't be wearing such messy clothes and nobody would talk to you anyway ...

Maybe it's because I am a clueless shopper. I can't find anything. I circle up and down aisles, waste time looking up and down. I pick up things, put things back, and finally make a choice. I'm obviously indecisive which makes it seem like I'm a slower person who has time for conversations ..

I told a friend about my experiences and she immediately said that it was because I "live in a small town." That's not the case: it happens to me everywhere and always has.

I know it's going to take some more research. I thought maybe I'd turn the tables and start a conversation with a stranger. So I set out for Target and started looking for the person I would talk to. As I wandered around and rejected one person after another, I realized that it's risky to start a conversation. What would the other person think? Would the person think that I was crazy? Would the person rush away or just ignore me? I looked around for the right person. I looked and looked. Then it was too late.

"I've never seen that cereal before. My kids are so picky. Do your kids like it?" A lady with a young child asked me.

"Yeah they do." I wanted to say, "Can we start over? Let me start this conversation."

"I have two more at home. My husband is watching them ... It's a nightmare when I have to bring them to the grocery with me ... "

Oh well, back to the drawing board.