I Never Met a Stranger...

I am a firm believer that everyone has a story to tell. As a journalist, I am by nature and training, interested in people's stories. However, I have to admit, there are times when I just don't give a dern. Like on the plane, for example, I rather not hear about your family history, your job, kids, or even where your final destination is. All I want to do is close my eyes and pray that wherever I'm going I get there in one piece. The whole idea of being 30,000 feet in the air is unnerving to me. On a recent trip back home to Atlanta, a little, old, white lady sits down next to me. She smiles. I smile back. She says, "I bet you were hoping this seat was going to be empty weren't you?" "I always do," I replied with a smile. Now, I don't think that response was mean at all, kinda funny, but not mean and well she didn't think so either. "I never met a stranger," she said. Oh lord, I was thinking, I might need to break out the IPod for this one. I scrambled to look for my IPod, but grabbed a book instead. I smiled at the lady and said, "Well, that's a good way to look at it," and I opened my book and started reading, hoping she would get the point and she did. "Don't worry," she said. "I'm not going to bother you." "You aren't bothering me," I said. Damnit! I was thinking, I should have just smiled and said ok. She leans in to me and says, "I took a water pill before getting on the plane." I just looked at her then said, "Ok, well, I will have my eyes closed but just tap my shoulder and I'll let you out. I'm a light sleeper so don't worry about waking me up.” "Oh, I wish I were a light sleeper," she said. I go back to my book. A minute goes by and she leans into me again. "She isn't a stewardess, is she?" she asked, pointing her chin to the older looking woman in a stewardess uniform. I replied that she was. She shook her head in disbelief. "She is looks too old to be a stewardess!" I don't say anything. "Oh, that was mean of me," she said. "I shouldn't have said that. I take it back." I resolved to the fact that this lady was not going to stop talking so I put my book away and said, "You can't take it back because you've already said it, you can only make up for what you said." She asked how she could do that. I said she had to think of something really nice to say to the woman and she had to mean what she said. She agreed to say something before the end of the flight. "I'm sure she used to be very attractive," she said. Then continues, "Maybe she just had a rough life!" She burst into laughter. I laughed as well and resolved to talk to or least listen to this lady for the hour and a half flight back to Atlanta. She was from Maryland, on her way to Seattle with members from her church. I'm not sure what her plans were once she got there. She told me that her daughter and husband recently adopted a teenage girl from Uganda. The husband met the girl on a missionary trip. When he met the girl, her hair would not grow because of all the scabs on her scalp from mosquito bites. "Her hair is growing now," she said, "but it's not as pretty as yours." She touched my curls pulling my hair to the front of my shoulders. "Is all that your hair," she asked. "Yes, it is," I said, pulling my hair back behind my shoulders. "It's so pretty, you are so lucky. Anyway, what was I saying? Oh, yes, her hair started to grow back and we took her to get her hair done. You know how you can go to the store and buy hair, well that’s what we did. It took 7 hours to braid her hair in these little braids. Did you know it takes that long?" she asked in disbelief. I said no. "Well, it took seven hours to do these tiny braids and at the ends the hair curled up. It was so cute!" she said. I nodded. I asked the woman how the girl was adjusting to her new life in the States. She told me she liked it very much but her daughter was concerned about keeping the young girl from hanging out with wrong crowd. "I'm not prejudice, but you know how you can blame an entire race because of something one person does?" she said. I shook my head no. "I don't see how you can do that," I replied. "Well, anyway, she continued, there are some Sudanese women who live across from me. I don't know them very well, but they seem nice. They are the ones who did Eva's hair."(Eva is the name of the girl from Uganda.) The woman said the Sudanese women told her that they realized they were black but they think African American boys can be trouble. “Oh?” I said. “You know how you hear things on TV about people,” she said. “I mean, that’s all you can really go by, right?” she asked. “You can only go by what you hear and see on TV and I think they still don’t tell you the whole story.” I didn’t say anything but thought to myself that it was true that many people will sit in front of a TV and watch the news and not question the validity of a story or look to other sources to validate the information. “I know some black people don’t think white people should adopt black kids,” she whispered to me. I nodded. “I don’t think it matters to the kid though,” I said. “Everyone wants to belong to someone.” I’m not sure how the conversation led to her telling me she was a conservative. Oh, I think it’s when she told me there were also some Mexicans who lived in her neighborhood and she didn’t know if they were illegal or not but if they were it was not like she would report them or anything. “That’s one thing, I don’t like, she said, illegals. They come into this country breaking the law.” “No one wants to be illegal,” I replied. “They aren’t thinking about any laws only that they will do anything to provide a better life for their families. Do you think a superpower like the United States can’t better control its borders?” I asked. She nodded yes. “So, there must be a reason why people are still able to come into this country illegally, what do you think that reason is?” I asked. She said she didn’t know. “It’s because the U.S. is benefiting from their cheap labor,” I said. She agreed saying that she thinks illegal immigrants take jobs that Americans think are beneath them. “They are willing to do the worse jobs, she said. “I know you are a liberal Democrat, aren’t you,” she asked. “There is no way of you knowing that,” I said. “That is an assumption you are making about me.” “Who are you supporting in the Presidential race?” I asked, avoiding her question because I didn’t want to say, yes, I’m a liberal Democrat, you know how black people tend to vote as a bloc. “I don’t like either candidate,” she said. “I don’t like Obama, not because of his color but because I don’t trust him and I don’t like McCain because he has moved to far to the left.” “But you will vote for McCain won’t you?” I asked. “I believe everyone should exercise their right to vote.” “Just like you have a right to vote you have a right not to vote. You shouldn’t vote for someone you don’t like,” I replied. She didn’t respond but appeared to be thinking about what I said. Moments before the plan landed she asked if she could take a picture of me. “Why?” I asked. “Eva, would just flip if she saw how pretty your hair is.” “Uhh, ok,” I hesitantly agreed. A couple of heads turned back to watch this little white lady take a picture of me. I smiled and said, “She thinks I’m a celebrity.” I never got the woman’s name but she asked for my address so she could send me a copy of the picture. I have no doubt I’ll be hearing from her.