Some time ago, I was casually flipping through a large print Readers Digest in a doctor’s office, as most of us experience that magazine. An article caught my attention titled “Familiar Strangers”. It rang true for me in so many ways. Although meager attempts years after to find the article weren’t successful, it kept with me all this time.
It was about normal folk we encounter during our daily routines. The coffee guy that remembers our latte with skim milk, the rare smiling toll booth attendant, the conductor on the 7:03, or the receptionist at our place of work. They become repeating points of interest or scenic views along our worn pathway through life. They are ever present, inescapable moments in time with faces, purposes and names, that is if we ever care to ask or glance at their name badge. Unless we dare change direction or have an unpleasant experience, there they will be …at the appointed time and designated place faithfully providing the same expected service day after day. That service is not the frothy latte, but simply being there for us.
These familiar strangers add to our lives in some way, small and large. When they are not seen that day, we wonder. If they miss several days, we worry. If they are no longer in their reserved space, a feeling of loss enters in their place.
Raymond, the newspaper guy, was one of my familiar strangers. Every morning before dawn, it was just me, Dillon (my lovable yet unruly Sheltie) and Raymond. We were the only signs of life except for an occasional rabbit darting to safety with its target-like white cotton tale spotlighting its retreat. Who else would be up at 5:00 anyway. Seldom more then a wave or a “good morning” and a generic comment about the weather, good or bad. He never quite warmed up to Dillon. I guess some are not dog people. I forgave him for that early on in our relationship after he started giving me his extra papers. Maybe he didn’t want to carry them back, but I would rather believe he liked me.
Raymond was a short, round Hispanic man retired in his late sixties. He would shuffle from his car to hand deliver the local paper to the front doors of out neighbor’s houses. During the winter months his shuffle resembled a tightrope walker when ice or snow choked his groomed path. He wasn’t like the other paper guys, with drive by inaccuracy tossing papers from a speeding car. Not Raymond, he almost did it the old fashion way, minus the Schwinn and handlebar basket. Old fashion enough for a man in his sixties.
Non-the-less a pleasant experience overall. I often wondered why exactly this guy was delivering newspapers day in and day out. I guess that is what a “familiar stranger” is ….. someone we superficially know who glaze moments in our lives with something comforting like a warm donut but not deep enough to answer the questions and mysteries we create about them. Maybe that is all we want meandering through our routine days …. the mysteries we solve and the questions we answer using our vivid imaginations. After all, truth and reality is much more casual and temporary. Once we know, the fantasy is over. What fun is that?
When I moved, I lost Raymond. I still think of him and visualize him driving his SUV, slowly getting out and carefully delivering something that most people don’t even read any more. Here he is getting up probably at 3:30 every morning in the dark, including weekends and holidays, braving the weather and diligently delivering an obsolete product that no longer holds the importance it once had. After all, it is only for beer money, as I eventually found out.
Soon I left my familiar world, I wondered if he felt a sense of loss as well. I did after all disrupt his routine. “Where did Joe and that damn dog go? I miss them”, I would imagine he would say. Was I a familiar stranger to him? Did I fill some void in his life, even in some small way? Did I make him smile and feel comfort in the familiar role I played, walking Dillon and asking about his morning. My ego would only hope.
We are all tiny atoms, in patterned orbits, moving at rapid paces. Our orbits intersect with other’s as we meet our programmed obligations and carry out what destiny has laid before us. Along the way, we touch people’s lives in meaningful ways that we probably take for granted or never knew possible. So … think about the next time you casually exchange smiles with that neatly dressed business woman getting on at the same train station sitting in the same seat at the same appointed time. You just may be an important piece in her daily puzzle, setting the tone for her day.
Wow …. I guess we are more important then we might realize.
