Simple Suggestion #193... Say a simple hello

Maybe this wouldn't seem like a good suggestion to the extreme introvert, but to me, it's just part of living a life of courtesy and kindness. I'll admit it: I am an introvert (but not too far from the extrovert end of the scale), so I'm not the type to really go out of my way to say hello to people, especially when I sense that, like me, they might prefer their own little world. But it's always been a rather uncomfortable feeling for me to walk past someone without acknowledging them in some way -- eye contact and a smile, a nod, or a simple hello. A stranger coming down the sidewalk is just someone I don't know, and a little acknowledgment might be the difference between the feeling of not being worth anything and a happy day -- for both of us.

I never know what might happen when I say hello to someone. Usually, they say a simple hello back, and we continue on in our separate directions. But last week I said hello to a boy with a backpack who was shuffling along, head down as if he was rather dejected, and his head snapped up, he looked me in the eye, and said, "Have a good day."

I don't know about you, but I can't wish someone else a good day without improving my own somehow, a wee bit. Greeting other people is like throwing a little positive energy into the wind, and feeling it rush back to ruffle my hair, too.

"I not grumpy t'day": thoughts on paying attention

My work-at-home life has shifted out of the house for the past two weeks as I've been filling in for L'Arche Edmonton's receptionist, who is away on vacation. I've really enjoyed my mornings in the office in spite of a few frustrations with technology breakdowns, mainly because I get to see my friends at work. There's no human interaction when I'm writing L'Arche history at my kitchen desk.

I also get to see my friend, Thomas, every day, and I've learned something from him again -- my L'Arche friends with intellectual disabilities often cause me to reflect on what's really important.

Last week I discovered that it's essential to notice when Thomas comes into the room, and to say hello, no matter what my computer screen is demanding of me. On Tuesday, I was fighting with an email program that refused to either send or receive what had to be critically important emails (not likely) and was completely focused on it when Thomas arrived. He walked into the room, sat down at the table not far from my desk, and waited for me to notice him, which, unfortunately, I didn't for quite some time. When I finally did look up and say hello, he said, "I not talking t'you," in his angry voice.

Nothing I could say or do made up for the fact that I hadn't greeted him sooner. He sat, arms crossed, glaring at me, and eventually, got up and walked out. When I mentioned this to someone else, she said, "Oh, just be sure to greet Thomas right away, or he gets grumpy."

On Wednesday, when Thomas arrived, I said hello to him and asked how he was as soon as he walked into my room. His immediate, happy response was, "I not grumpy t'day," and I said, "I'm so glad. I like to be with you when you're happy." He spent a good part of the morning at the table near my desk, offering commentary on the falling snow or the situation in the parking lot ("lots of cars"), or in companionable silence. He didn't require a lot of attention, but it seemed important to him that I acknowledge his presence occasionally.

My experience with Thomas has me thinking a lot about these gadgets and gizmos that are always demanding our notice -- computers, TVs, tablets, smart phones and possibly a half-dozen other things that I don't even know about. They compete with our attention for each other, and if we let them win the competition, basic human interaction and courtesy lose out. How could a broken email program ever be more important than Thomas?

And yet everywhere we look there are people sitting together in different places, lost in their separate devices. Not that the devices are always an issue -- it's the lost-ness that is. As a technological society, we've developed the tendency to think that the business on those devices is terribly important. But it's essential -- and only human -- to be aware of those around us and their needs for our attention and care. When our devices start to suck us into unawareness of each other, it must be time to remind ourselves of our true priorities and turn them off.

It might just mean the difference between a "grumpy" or a "good day" for someone we love.

A simple hello

I've been walking to work more often since my moodling about Convenience vs. saving the planet (http://simplemoodlings.blogspot.com/2010/10/convenience-vs-saving-planet.html). For me, it's more pleasant to walk than drive anyday, though walking takes 35 minutes one way. It's even longer when the sidewalks are snowy and the path through the schoolyard of Vimy Ridge Academy is like a one-way mountain goat trail.

Unfortunately, as I walk, I often end up thinking about how unfriendly we urbanites have become. Where did we lose that little sign of civility known as "Hello"? Inevitably, I pass people on the streets, and I'm beginning to suspect that most of them think me a little strange for calling out a friendly, "Good morning." I try to greet everyone I pass, including the kids I overtake on their way to school, even if they have ipod cords running into their ears. Usually, I'll get a grudging "hi" back from the teenagers, but some of them keep plodding along, heads down, unreachable. I'm always delighted to meet one particular boy, maybe eleven years old, who greets me first. It's nice to see that some people are still inclined to smile and acknowledge a fellow traveller.

This morning I passed five people on my way to work, four of whom completely ignored my greetings. They had me wondering if perhaps they're unfriendly because of the shopping mall mentality that has taken over my city. No one greets a stranger at the mall unless they're trying to sell something, and I often get the feeling that when I salute people as I walk to work, they're ready to bolt the other way. Do they think I might ask something of them if they reply? Perhaps many of us have become skittish in our street civility because we've been approached by too many salespeople, telemarketers, panhandlers, petitioners, and politicians. But is that any reason to give up on simple courtesy?

As I reached my workplace, I came across a fellow shoveling the sidewalk in the schoolyard next door. After being ignored by the last four passersby, did I dare try again?

"Good morning," I called.

His face lit up. "Good morning! How are you?" he replied.

"I'm fine. And you?" I asked.

"I'm fine too. Isn't it a beautiful day?"

I stopped and looked across the chainlink fence at the one person who more than made up for the four-out-of-five who refused to respond. "It is definitely a beautiful day," I replied. Especially when a simple hello can make us both smile.