A familiar stranger

[pegkerr]

As I've mentioned before, I usually walk across the Stone Arch Bridge everyday for exercise, sometimes several times. The bridge was crowded in the summer when the weather was nice, but now that the weather has turned colder, only the die-hards like me venture forth to admire the view across the river.

I generally go at the same time every day after eating my lunch. Most days, I pass a man crossing the bridge from the other direction. I would guess he is in his late fifties or early sixties. Every day, he carries a tote bag with the initial "M" stitched on it. He is rather portly, and he walks at a middling speed in a rather pigeon-toed manner. He wears a blue parka and black gloves and hat, and he has wire-rimmed oval glasses. His hair, originally a reddish-blond, I think, is now mostly gray; he has a mustache and short beard. I wonder where he goes every day; does he wonder about me?

Tell me about someone you see every day whom you don't know. Where do you see him or her--at the bus stop? The corner store? The coffee shop? What is the same about the person every day, and what is different? What have you gleaned about this person from observation?

Comments

[dreamcoat-mom.livejournal.com]

You know, I stood at the railing of the Endless Bridge at the Guthrie on Wednesday at around 12:30, watching the Stone Arch walkers huddled against the bright cold and wondered, "Hmmmm. I wonder if my friend Peg is one of them." I thought about your post of a few weeks back about dancing on the Stone Arch Bridge, and smiled.

Sometimes LJ is a very cool thing.

As for mystery people, this is one from my past:
When I was in college, I spent summers performing in a theater that was a converted old barn. Every single Thursday night we had a little old Priest that sat in the front row of the stage left seats. He never missed a Thursday, and it was more fun to watch him than to watch the show. He would rock and hoot and slap his knees in unabandoned delight. The more colorful the humor, the more he'd laugh, and his high-pitched "Hoooooooo hoo hoo!" sailed over the rest of the audience. I always wondered who he was, where his parish was, what he was like to talk to? I would guess that he looked after his flock with humor, compassion and boundless energy. Even the most cynical, black-clad theeeatah major found him as delightful as he found us. I think about him now because a friend of mine from those days brought him up in conversation just last night. We assumed that he is either very, very old or no longer living, but the first Thursday he didn't come back to the Red Barn, they surely must have missed him.

[tanaise.livejournal.com]

The company here is very insular, so while I know editorial people in the college division, and even a handful in our marketing group, we share the floor with a couple of other divisions--I don't even know what the groups are. So there are frequently people wandering through who I don't know. The most memorable of them is a guy who I have seen regularly for the past two years or so--he's older than me, probably late 30s to early 40s, well dressed, Indian or Pakistani by ancestry, but I think born/raised in the US because he doesn't seem to have an accent, though I barely talk to him more than a sentence here or there. But I see him probably 2-5 times a week on average, usually in the halls or at the elevator, and he always smiles and says hi to me, and it's kinda nice.

(There's also a couple of really good looknig guys that I see fairly regularly, but I've never been able to figure out if they even work for our company or if they're just on the floor to use the cafeteria. Plus, that's just shallowness talking there.)

[penmage.livejournal.com]

The middle-aged woman who has been in the same subway car with me a couple of mornings in a row, on the way to work. I have watched her work through Philippa Gregory's Meridon. I have been tempted to ask her if she's read Gregory's other works. I have been tempted to say good morning to her.

[mrissa.livejournal.com]

I don't work outside the home, so there's no one I see every day. But when I walk Ista around the lunch hour in the winter, often there's a man maybe ten years older than me walking his three large, friendly dogs. If we walk close enough, we greet each other -- he has a pleasant deep voice -- or at a distance we wave. His eyes are just starting to crinkle when he smiles, which he does a lot, at his dogs and at me and my dog. He wears an old, battered khaki coat, but his trousers and shoes are always "nice," both dressy and polished (shoes) or ironed (trousers). His dogs are always immaculately groomed. His head is rarely few days past shaving even in the dead of winter. (His hair is thick and black, though, even darker than his dark skin, so I can see why he'd have to shave it often if he wanted to keep that look -- he couldn't cheat by a day or two the way a fair-skinned blond man could.) His stride is about as long and fast as mine is, so if we go opposite directions around the park loop to keep the dogs from going too nuts about trying to play with each other, we meet up again in exactly the middle.

I have no idea what he does for a living. I don't even know where in our neighborhood he lives, although with three dogs of that size, I expect it has to be a duplex or a house, because the apartments and townhouses would just be too small.

I feel safer when he is out walking his dogs at the same time as I am, and if I see him out, I'll go into the park, which I am otherwise avoiding right now. (One bad experience too many.)

[porphyrin.livejournal.com]

Most days, I work at our Robbinsdale office, in the Oakdale Medical building.

Every day I walk in and smile at the guy behind the security desk. He's short-- about 5'3", with silvery hair and laugh lines at the corners of his eyes. He jokes with the people that come in and out, and he's unfailingly friendly and helpful, always ready to give directions.

Usually, when I come in, there's at least 1 or 2 people trading jokes with him around the desk. Sometimes more, and they're of all ethnicities, shapes, and sizes. He smiles at all of them equally.

Usually, when I leave for lunch, he's sitting there by himself listening to something (I see the headphones). I wonder what it is.

[malinaldarose.livejournal.com]

A few people spring to mind, but I don't see them every day. Since my daily commute (such as it is) takes me along the same trail where I walk, I often see the same two elderly gentlemen out for their walks. They don't walk together; one walks around 8:00 a.m. and the other walks around noon. They're both at least in their 70s, but walk quite firmly. The early walker always has a Walkman and he walks no matter what the weather. If the trail is covered in snow, he walks at the edge of the road (a dangerous proposition on that road!). I've only once walked at the same time he was out; he smiled and said hello.

The noon walker always wears a ball cap. I don't generally see him in the winter. I notice him primarily because he's always carrying a stick. Not a walking stick so far as I can tell, just the same bent stick. I don't know if it's for balance, protection or some other use. He always carries it by the middle in his right hand -- and I am desperately curious about it.

The other folks that immediately came to mind are an older couple who grocery shop at the same time I do. They look vaguely familiar -- I think either they were regulars at the mall when I worked there as a youngster or maybe she was a clerk in a store somewhere. But we almost always get to the store about the same time and generally nod to one another and then go our separate ways.

[enegim.livejournal.com]

The building where I work does not permit smoking indoors, so there are always several smokers walking around just outside, or seated on the bench near the door. One who's always there is a very tall blonde woman in (what looks to me like) uncomfortably fashionable clothes: short tight skirt, high spike heels, lots of make-up, etc.

The clothes are ultra-femmy; the face seems very masculine, and every day when I pass her, I think, "I'm guessing she wasn't born female." And then I feel guilty, because it shouldn't matter, certainly shouldn't be the main thing I wonder about.

Every day that I'm not too rushed, I smile and nod to her and the other people I pass at the doorway, and sometimes say "hi." She is the only one who never acknowledges my greeting.

[spacejaggy.livejournal.com]

There's a bum around town. He's older with a dirty, graying beard and he wears a broad-brimmed hat, probably to keep the sun off. I first saw him at the Territorial Prison's little park where I go sometimes to sit and watch the wildlife while I eat and generally enjoy some peace and quiet. Then I saw him up at the library a couple of times, sitting on the park bench, and again here and there as I drive around town. I make it a point to avoid people and I find it nifty that he's where I end up.

I do worry about him a little. We had the Santa Ana winds through here in the last couple of days and I hope he's got somewhere to go at night; I almost bought some chapstick and went down to pass it out to bums I saw. I dunno. I like seeing him around; it's like he's a part of the city.

[siriologist.livejournal.com]

Lately there is a guy I see who drops his kids off everyday at about the same time as I do. He has a middle schooler and an elementary schooler, so I see him at the elementary school and then again at the middle school. He drives a really bright yellow car, or he did until Wednesday, when I saw him in a brown pick up. I wanted to ask where his pretty yellow car went, but I didn't. He's tall and quite good looking and seems very involved in his kids lives. Very cool guy.

The other person I thought of when you brought up the topic was a very old gentleman I would see walking all over the town where we used to live. I used to see him in the morning, at lunch and again in the afternoon. He must get up and walk all day. I would see him miles from where he started out. In the winter he'd where a jacket and hat; in the summer he would be shirtless in shorts and sneaks; when it looked like rain, he'd have an umbrella. Always walking. He'd make me feel very guilty for driving everywhere.

[origamilady.livejournal.com]

*grin* I can think of a few people like that . . . . the one that popped immediately to mind though, I saw 10-12 times when I spent the week in Dublin Ireland.

He was/is a busker, wearing a stereotypical cowboy hat and always some sort of plaid shirt and blue jeans with fancy leather cowboy boots. Everytime I saw him he was singing some Old-time Country music (if Johnny Cash could be considered Old time .. . . since he sang him a lot) or Elvis.

Throughout the week every time I saw him, he was busking on a different street. Always seemed to manage to draw a crowd. I noticed him the first time because of the incongruity of hearing American Country music on the streets of Dublin. The last time I saw him, was the morning of my flight back to the U.S. Since it was my last day there I decided to give him all of my coinage (about 6 or 7 Euros). He smiled at me and played a riff or two of "pretty woman, walking down the street". I smiled waved and melted back into the crowd.

[nwl.livejournal.com]

I walk most weekdays in the morning, so I see a few people on a regular basis. One woman walks Ariel, a chubby, friendly dog. The woman is also chubby and cheerful.

For weeks in the better weather, I could see two Asian women walking, a short heavy woman and a taller, slim woman who looks, to me, a lot like Sun in Lost. I'd pass them twice in my walk. The heavy woman was always talking to the slimmer woman, speaking in, well, I was thinking Korean. Lately, I've just seen the younger woman in my walks. I wonder what happened to the other woman. Was she just visiting? Is she ill, so the slimmer woman walks alone? It's really none of my business.

I also see a woman who walks two miniature Lassie-type dogs. I think she's in my quilting guild, but I'm not sure.

I also see a man who walks two beagles. He used to walk a beagle and a Dalmatian. He has an artificial leg. I'm usually driving, but he always nods as I go by.

[bardj219.livejournal.com]

Right across the University where I graduated from is a park café. Parallel to the park café is a doughnut shop, where I usually pass on my home or going to school. There’s this beggar, who I think is a year older than I am. He is very friendly with most of the passers by. In fact, he even smoke with few of the college guys who usually standby at the park café.

I have been quite used to seeing him just sitting outside the doughnut shop. After sometime, I came back to my college two years after my graduation and noticed that he is no longer in his spot. I asked around from the other beggar where has he gone. No one knew the answer.

Days after that, I was viewing some of my friends on friendster. I was amused the beggar has a friendster account. How cool is that? LOL I swear it is his account that I have viewed.

Bard Jameson
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