March 21, 2006 08:56 AM
Adventures in People-Watching
I've been working at home as a freelancer for most of the past 15 years. (Except for two years, when I went to work for my biggest client. Big mistake.) So as much as I like my house, I spend so much time here that I get mighty sick of it now and then. That's when I grab my laptop, or even just a spiral notebook, and head out to a bagel place or coffee shop or restaurant to sit down and write, edit, or do whatever work can be accomplished there. On my many jaunts outside my home office, however, I haven't just gotten a change of scenery, some fresh air, and some good food. Often I go simply because I love to people-watch.
It's amazing what you'll hear and see if you just pay close enough attention to your surroundings, particularly when you're alone in a public place. Once about a year ago at a bagel shop downtown, I saw two young women deep in conversation. Although I couldn't hear much of what they were saying, I did hear one ask the other if she would pray with her. They joined hands, bowed their heads, and sat quietly praying together for what seemed like a long time--at least 20 minutes or more. It looked a little strange, I think, to the people who entered the shop and saw the girls huddled in a corner, deep in prayer. But I was quite impressed that they were secure enough to do as they pleased in public--praying, holding hands, or whatever.
I've seen teenage couples break up over a pizza, and I once saw a man propose marriage to his girlfriend, as he pulled a velvet ring box out of his pocket and popped it open for her to view a diamond ring. Last week, I saw and heard a woman at the next table berating her husband because he was going to be out of town on business the evening their daughter was going to attend her first prom. And yesterday, I saw a frazzled mother giving a good, hard pinch to her active toddler's leg under the table, because the toddler was repeatedly asking for another cookie. As the little girl screamed in the middle of the bakery and her mother dragged her out by the arms, I wanted to walk over and pinch the mom hard on the leg, to see how she liked it.
But of all the conversations I have covertly seen/accidentally overheard/intentionally eavesdropped into, there is one that I've never been able to forget. It was a few years ago, and I was working on an a very complicated article and needed to get away from my office for a while. I went to my favorite sandwich place down the street from my house, where the owner always greeted me by name and knew just how I liked my turkey and bacon club--light on the mayo, extra piece of swiss cheese, one piece of romaine lettuce, no tomato. At the next table, two women in the forties or so were speaking rather loudly, and I soon learned that one woman had a teenage daughter who was terminally ill and was not expected to live for more than a few months. The woman was explaining to her friend that her ill daughter wanted a puppy, but she wasn't really sure she wanted to get one for her. The woman told her friend: "What if we buy a puppy for her? Then when she dies we'll have to take care of it. I don't want to be stuck with a puppy then."
I wondered what it would be like to use phrases like "when she dies" about my own children, and what it would feel like. I thought about that woman for a long time, how she was able to speak of her daughter's impending death without crying or shaking that day in the sandwich shop. I thought she must be really strong, she must have accepted this horrible hand life has dealt her. Then I remembered the day, when I was 22 years old, when I learned that a close friend of mine was killed in an accident. I remember having good days and bad days after that. I remember crying and screaming and pounding my fists on the ground because I was angry and didn't know what else to do. I remember thinking of him and laughing and joking too, and sometimes the crying and the joking would all take place in the same afternoon. Then it occurred to me that this mother, about to lose her child, was just getting by, one day at a time, and that all I had was a glimpse into one moment of one day. The next day, even the next hour, might have been very different for her. So I try not to draw too many conclusions about what I see when I head out into the world for an afternoon of people-watching. Because you just never really know what someone's story might be.
Comments
This is another reason why reading blogs is so fascinating. It's a glimpse into someone elses world, but without the evesdropping. :)
Excellent post!
Posted by: Miss Lady Ma'am at March 21, 2006 01:20 PM
I often wonder about the people I encounter for seconds too. I wonder how accurately that snippet of their lives really describes them. Fantastic post.
Posted by: Maddie at March 21, 2006 02:02 PM
Wonderful post, LC. I'm quite a voyeur, too. Love people watching and try, also, not to be too judgmental in that situation. It's not always easy though, is it?
And yes, I agree, blogging is an interesting mix of voyeurism and exhibitionism!
Posted by: Tammy at March 21, 2006 04:58 PM
Hi!
I Love to listen & watch. just nosy, I guess! probably why I like blogging. until I turn into my grandma, and lose the filter between my ears & my mouth. she would say horrible things about people in resturants. by then , no one in my family will take me out, I'm sure. of course, they may argue my filter isn't always working now.
Posted by: Karen at March 21, 2006 08:26 PM
yep. people watching is fun. listening in on their conversations is a diversion. though i don't go out of my way to listen. but with the advent of cell phones and everyone talking so extremely loudly into 'em... hearing intimate information pass from one to another feels strange. i don't need to know what others are thinking and saying to each other. sometimes yeah.. .it's fun. but it can be more than i ever wanted to know. like learning that your parents are still doing it after being married for 35+ years. not something i want to visualize or discuss/hear about.. anything.
yes, i found ya via blogmad again.
btw, i filter my words that are spoken outloud (everything passes by my internal censor).. but filter very little as to what is typed/said on my blog.
Posted by: jen at March 22, 2006 10:51 AM
