Grampa? Do you know him?

One of the greatest joys of my recent years is time spent with my kids and grandchildren.

I especially like it when I can spend some time one on one alone with them.

With the young ones our conversations are typically very light and often silly, but sometimes they make us - well maybe just me - think quite a little bit afterwards.

On a recent trip to Boston I had an opportunity to spend time alone with Ayla Elizabeth.
Since I’m a pushover when it comes to the granddaughters I let her ride in the stroller as we went to Ula, the local cafe where we like to split a popover, or two. She likes the eggy middle, while I favor the crusty exterior (No surprises there I guess). A New Orleans coffee for me, and a vanilla steamer for her completes our typical order.

As we navigated the narrow Jamaica Plain sidewalks the few blocks from home to the cafe that day we had to scoot around a couple of other pedestrians we passed by.
I said, “HI!” to both of them and probably made some quick, inane comment to them about the weather, or some other inconsequential matter, as grandparents on vacation are wont to do.

After each encounter, when the stranger was just out of earshot, Ayla asked,
“Grampa? Do you know him?”

Not wanting to screw up any STRANGER DANGER lessons she may have been learning at school or at home I said,
“Yes, he is an old friend of mine from a long time ago,”
even though I’d never before in my life seen either of those men.
I’ll probably spend some time in hell for lying to my grandchild, but I’ve found that with kids that young sometimes a little fib just makes more sense.

My first thought was about the different ways a man in his late fifties and an almost five year old girl need to approach the world these days.

She needs a hand to hold and a seasoned guide to help lead the way to keep her safe from harm.
On the other hand I can walk almost anywhere, and approach most people and situations without batting an eye.

My dad always chatted strangers up and it appears that I inherited the trait from him, so I guess you could say I come by it honestly.

In Minneapolis I can walk up to most homeless people I encounter and strike up a conversation and help them out in whatever way I can.
It’s fairly easy for me since I am male and feel far less threatened than many woman probably would be.
I am fortunate in that regard.

I’ve given Ayla money to put in the panhandlers’ jars on the streets in Boston along with the explanation that they weren’t as fortunate as Ayla and I and that s/he just needed a little bit of help right now.
I hold onto her hand as she makes those deposits.

Caught up in a flight delay (I actually missed my flight) on my return to Minneapolis at the end of that particular visit to Boston, I approached a group awaiting their Aer Lingus flight to Dublin. Their lilting Irish accents were a joy to listen to, so I told them as much, and thus began another friendly conversation amongst new friends.

On multiple occasions I’ve also struck up conversations with university presidents or other dignitaries. I take advantage of those opportunities when they present themselves as well. Rank or prestige doesn’t intimidate nor impress me much, so I probably don’t display as much reverence as they are accustomed to.
Whatever.

I have the opportunity to do A LOT of the things I do because of the fact that I’m a male of a certain age who doesn’t get hung up on pretenses, and isn’t afraid to be that “random guy” who talks to EVERYONE.
I’ve reached a point in life where I don’t worry about much.
Why should I?
Life’s too short for that.

I’ve never been nervous entering any room because I usually know someone there.
Whenever we go places where crowds are gathered I always expect to run into someone I know.
I’m somewhat disappointed if I don’t.
In those instances I typically try to meet someone new.

I have those luxuries because of who I am.
AND how I was born.
Specifically, a white man in America.

I was a freshman at the University of Minnesota, working with the Gopher football team as a student equipment manager the first time I EVER found myself to be a minority.
I’d gone to school with very few black people and actually really knew even fewer of them.
And now I was getting a crash course in
black and white,
differences and similarities, and,
disadvantage versus privilege,
in my new situation as a minority.

It was truly eye opening to see how privileged my upbringing was.
I never knew how good I had had it!

Whereas I’d always been able to travel anywhere I wanted in my hometown I now met people who had not EVER set foot on certain blocks in their neighborhoods because they were unsafe due to drugs, gangs, and violence of all sorts.

I met college athletes who had never known their fathers.
I heard stories of kids who were routinely followed by security most times they shopped.
I knew my dad and was never accused of shoplifting.

As I got to know my new friends better, by hearing their stories, and telling mine, it became increasingly clear that, deep down, we are ALL far more similar than we are different.
I was just born with A LOT more privilege than many of them.
The fact that I never even realized that this privilege existed (and that I was a beneficiary of it) until I reached age 18 attests to how saturated in it I was.

Over time, as we became more familiar with each other the differences we saw became less a matter of black versus white and more offense versus defense, X’s versus O’s, with the overarching sentiment being a bunch of individuals, each with their parts to play, pulling together for a common goal, as a team.
Everyone contributing their best.

Doing what they could.
All in it together.
Talking and listening were the keys.

Allegedly the Native American proverb is that one should,

“Walk a mile in another’s moccasins before judging them”.
I like that standard.
Again, talking and listening are crucial.
We’ve all walked differing paths to arrive at the point we are at now.
I realize that my path has been pretty damn easy to travel.
Many others have had far more difficult roads to navigate.
I acknowledge and appreciate that fact.

And these lessons, learned way back then, still inform my daily interactions today.

Whether you’re a
have or a have-not,
a millionaire or homeless,
a star or struggling,
I like to think I’ll treat you the same.
If given time we can talk.
And hopefully get to know and respect each other so that next time I’m asked I can HONESTLY answer the question with,
“Yes Ayla, I do know him. He’s a friend of mine.”