I started getting my feet wet in the elderly program today. Judy, one of my housemates who works with the elderly in Jackson County, took me along with her this morning for a visit and some of her errands. I'm constantly amazed by the work of the volunteers here. I've never met a more self-giving, compassionate group of people, and I'm really hoping that some of their good qualities rub off on me.
At one point in the morning, we stopped by the McKee post office to pick up some stamps. While we were waiting, an older gentleman came in wearing a denim jacket and an old, worn-out cap. When he smiled he revealed an upper row of perfectly absent teeth. He struck up a conversation with the girl behind the counter, calling her "Hon." He went on to say that his wife and her mother always called people "hon" when they couldn't remember - or didn't know - their names, and that he had somehow picked up the habit. He chatted with Judy about where she was from, and then turned his sights on me.
"Where are you from, hon?" he asked politely.
I grinned, anticipating the reaction. "New York."
He hooted. Thank you, New York, for equipping me with a reputation that always precedes me.
Then he said, "You know what? We're all from different places, and we all talk different, but we all have a universal language. We all can smile."
No arguments here.
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