We Chatted a Bit

My Singles New Beginnings class is taking the next few weeks to talk about friends and friendships.  I led Wednesday’s class and during our discussion I spoke briefly about the neighborhood I grew up in. Everyone knew everyone. The kids all played together, went to the same school and hung out in the park at the end of the street.

If my mom was cooking and ran short of supplies, she sent me to one of the neighbors to borrow an egg, a cup of flour or a stick of butter. She’d send me back a day or two later with a replacement. People helped one another and thought nothing of it. That doesn’t happen much today.

I’ve been living in my Florida home for going on ten years and seldom exchange more than a quick “hello” or casual wave of my hand with the people in my neighborhood.  The same holds true with my Michigan condo.  If Ruth was still here, she’d be more friendly than me. Women are the social chairmen in most relationships. Guys are busy doing guy things and most of those things include a tool or a game.  Most of my games involve a ball or a deck of cards.

At the end of Wednesday’s class, we talked about taking one “action step” to help expand our current friendships.  I committed to speaking to Dave who lives kitty-corner across the street from me.  The only time I’ve had a meaningful conversation with him was after Ruth died.  I wanted to know who cleaned his house because I wanted someone to clean mine.  He’d lost his wife a couple of years before I lost Ruth, so I knew he had similar needs to mine. We chatted for a few minutes, and as I was heading home, he said, “If you ever want to talk, let me know. I don’t want you to do something stupid.” I took that to mean he didn’t want me to harm myself.  I haven’t on two fronts. I haven’t hurt myself, and I haven’t spoken to him again.

When I was heading out to Wednesday’s Singles New Beginnings class, I discovered I had a flat tire on my car.  I used my golf cart most of the day and had my “road service” guys come over to change it before the sun set.  The next morning, I drove to a tire place to have my tire repaired.  While I was there, I decided to have my tires rotated and oil changed.  There was one other man sitting in the shop and he appeared to be reading a book on a tablet.  He came prepared to sit awhile.

About twenty-minutes into our joint sit, he got up to check on the status of his car.  As he sat back down, our eyes met and he asked me where I was from.

“Michigan”

He mentioned he was from Virginia, just outside of Washington, D.C., and that broke the ice. For the next hour, we chatted about all sorts of things. He did most of the talking while I mostly listened. Here are a few of his highlights.

1. He and his wife have lived in The Villages for ten years. He was a barber in D.C., and she worked as a real estate agent. Neither has a pension, but after selling their home in Virginia, they were able to pay cash for their place in The Villages. “We’ve been living on the balance from the sale,” he said.
2. He’s frustrated by rising food prices. His wife usually does the shopping, but he recently went to a members-only big box store and bought two dozen eggs and some Canadian bacon.  It’s his favorite. The total came to $19 and change, which we both thought was steep for just two items.
3. I told him I once worked in a grocery store during high school, stocking shelves. I remembered pricing half gallons of milk at thirty-four cents, later thirty-eight, and when it hit forty-one, I wondered when it would stop. It never did.
4. We moved on to talking about gas prices. I recalled paying as little as nineteen cents a gallon, and we agreed we’d never paid more than twenty-five cents during our high school years, usually around twenty-two. He graduated in 1962, and I in 1965.
5. He shared stories about cutting the hair of D.C. staffers and his belief that all politicians are “whores,” caring first for themselves, second for their party, and last for the country. “Being a barber is like being a priest. You hear a lot of confessions in the chair.”
6. He mentioned that he and his wife share household responsibilities, with her taking care of the bills, cooking, and laundry. “She took a bad fall a couple of weeks ago and cut her hand deeply. I’ve never seen so much blood.  I thought she’d cracked her head open,” While she recovers, he’s been taking on more tasks around the house.  He did his first load of laundry a couple of days ago and baked his first potato last night.
7. “I thought I’d be a barber until the day I died but fifty years of cutting hair took a toll on my shoulders and hands.  I have arthritis so I can’t cut any more.  We’re living off our savings but it’s going fast.
8. He shared a phone conversation he had with one of his longtime customers. “He called to tell me he had been diagnosed with cancer.  He didn’t have much time left and he needed a haircut.  He came in later that afternoon, and we reminisced a bit while I cut. When I finished, he asked me what he owed me.  I told him I’d catch him next time.  He died the next day.
9. He told me about a bet he made with one of Jimmy Carter’s staff members during Carter’s run against Ronald Reagan. The staffer wagered $50 that Carter would win, but after Carter lost, he never showed up to pay. About a month later, the staffer called to book a haircut. When asked about the $50, he stayed quiet, so the barber said his schedule was full. The staffer quickly replied, “Ok, I’ll bring the $50,” and suddenly a slot at two that afternoon became available.
10. The most touching thing he shared, though, was how much he and his wife relied on each other. They never had children, as she couldn’t carry them, and it’s always been just the two of them. He’s certain that when one of them passes, the other will follow not long after.

My biggest takeaway from that conversation was my barber friend had a lot to share and a willing listener.  I was interested in what he said, and once he began, he just kept going. I think most of us are looking for that.  We’ve got things to say, and a conversation is always better when there’s someone to listen.

After about an hour they announced that his car was ready and he left with a “thanks for the conversation” and a “good-bye”.  I never got his name, and I don’t think I shared mine.  Our exchange proved that you can be friendly without becoming friends.

I did visit Dave across the street as I planned. I was surprised to see a sign just inside his entryway that read: No solicitors. No trespassing. I hesitated for a moment before ringing the doorbell but went ahead and did it anyway. He came to the door and asked what I needed.  I explained that I was looking for someone new to cut my lawn and trim my bushes.  “Your’s looks great and I’m not happy with mine.”

He invited me in while he retrieved the information I’d asked for. He spoke, and I jotted it down. The whole thing was over in a couple of minutes. No extra chatter, just the facts. Dave and I will never be close friends, but we’ll exchange information when needed. Otherwise, it’s just the occasional “hello” and wave from across the street.

That’s about it.