Talking to Strangers Again

I was born into a family of talkers; specifically, a family of talk-to-strangers-in-a-line style talkers.

During these pandemic times, I started to realize how much this was a part of who I am. In these ever accumulating months, I’ve begun to miss random pleasantries with amenable people in my periphery. I am now down to barely a nod at strangers. I want to find my way back to my talk-to-anyone-who-will-listen roots, within reason.

My family’s trait can be both charming and maddening, depending on how much time you have to spare while shopping, and the reception of the captive audience in line with you. Most everyone in my sprawling family is capable of striking up a conversation with nearly anyone, nearly anywhere. This compulsion to chat lengthens what should have been quick errands. But this time was definitely not time wasted, and I realize that now more than ever.

These exchanges can result in a new friendship, or just a determination of the fact that you know multiple people in common, and so are friends by association already. Even initially quiet line-adjacent people are eventually drawn in, as my relatives are not easily discouraged and tend to get unintentionally louder when conversation flounders. Their volume increase usually brings another person in their line, or even in the next line, into the discussion. At times, these shopping trips and the resulting chatter, end up feeling more like a reunion of old friends, even though no one lined up may have known each other five minutes before.

I recall my grandmother working a bank line like she was hosting a talk show. She’d befriend people as they waited and reminisce about the bank’s downtown location glory days. The rattling off of favorite stores, long closed, would pleasantly pass the time in line. The shared memories of strangers would bond them in the present.

My mother excelled at super market line talking. She went food shopping excessively, and emerged knowing at least one new person each time. The entire ride home would be a rehashing of their conversation, the retelling of which could extend well into the grocery unpacking process.

She also excelled in a doctor’s office waiting room, often putting nervous fellow patients at ease. When she underwent cancer treatment, she knew every other patient in the waiting room, their treatment status, and their chemo schedule, within a week and a half. At first she got them laughing, but as the weeks went by, they mutually kept each other laughing. I wonder about those people still, 30 years later.

My aunts, skillful at giving quick, but expansive biographies of their beloved children, charmed many people over the years. They incorporated tales of their grandchildren, friends, and siblings into their verbal repertoire as well. Their prime talking times included before mass, after mass, and at the mall. After an encounter with them, a person might know the marital status and recent accomplishments of about a dozen people, whom they would likely never meet, but now almost definitely hoped they would.

As a kid, I was often embarrassed by all the in-line camaraderie, especially when people seemed less than participatory. This was a rare occurrence, though. Even as phone scrolling became typical, line buddies were made.

Finding the best in people and situations, making a joke about what isn’t great, and hearing others in the process, is a family trait I want to emulate. I’ve watched as they gab on, but also listen to others, and remember details. To meet them once, is to know them forever.

Some of the family members who taught me that there are no real strangers in a store line are no longer with me. But, I plan to carry on their tradition, when I can resume random conversation again. I saw their friendly gabbing create real rapport. After the toll of a pandemic, you never know when someone may need a new friend to laugh and commiserate with, even if just for a minute or two, in a long, lonely supermarket line.

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This post was previously published on medium.com.

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