Summit Wellness: Gratitude - "Close Encounters of the Everyday Kind"

By Matt Anthony - Summit FM Contributor

We had just checked out at one of the local chain grocery stores, the one with lower prices but a limited selection. As anyone who takes on the chore of food shopping can attest, it doesn’t seem to matter much lately where one shops. (If you’re a devoted fan of olive oil like me, you understand. The price of that golden-green liquid is just extraordinary!)

We had just filled our worn bags with our minimal provisions and were starting to move towards the exit when a woman ahead of us, who had also finished checking out, mentioned to a store employee that she had forgotten something. In this store, a metal railing separated the 'in' from the 'out,' so she was instructed to go through the exit, make a 360-degree turn, and come back in to retrieve her forgotten item.

We were exiting as she was making the wide circle with her cart to re-enter. The woman and Donna made eye contact briefly, and with a forlorn expression, the woman said to Donna, “I forgot my bread.”

All three of us paused for several seconds, and Donna smiled and replied, “I do that too.”

It was an odd and strangely poignant moment, and I thought about it several times that day as we made our way back home. Did this woman also suffer from dementia? Was Donna able to recognize it instantly? And in that moment, was there an immediate connection? I’ll never know for sure.

Kamala Harris is fond of saying, “We share more similarities than we do differences,” and I believe that’s true. Having a seemingly inane conversation while waiting in line at a store, a friendly but brief exchange with a ticket-taker at a show or a ballgame, or simply nodding at a fellow rider on a bicycle as you pass each other on a path—there’s comfort, I think, in knowing that we’re all just muddling through, trying our best to do good, not harm others, and appreciate this once-in-a-lifetime chance that we have.

My friend Marc Lee Shannon speaks and writes eloquently about ‘finding your tribe.’ I’ve always agreed with his premise. I think he’s right. I wonder, though, if we truly need to search that diligently. Are we making it more difficult than it needs to be? And is the common bond we share—as just mortal beings slogging through the muck and trying to get to the other side—hidden in the walls and complexities that we’ve constructed ourselves?

Why do we high-five a stranger sitting next to us in a sports bar when the Browns score? (If they score, that is!) Why do we sometimes nod or smile at others in the waiting area of a doctor’s office? These actions may seem random and nonsensical, but in that momentary burst of a shared human experience—however rudimentary or abrupt it may be—I feel almost a twinge of gratitude. It gives me solace to know that, perhaps, I’m not alone. And neither are you.

I recall having a quick chat several years ago with a guy at a motorcycle dealership who was also waiting to have his bike worked on. I just liked him. He looked me in the eye when he spoke and had a certain ambiance about him that seemed to mesh with the patois we shared on that humid day in the customer-service waiting area. I’m not sure why, but when the service manager announced that his bike was done, we shook hands as he left.

Riding away later in the day, I felt as if I had known him for a long time, as if we could have been friends in a past or future life. What bike he rode, where he went to high school, or what he enjoyed on his pizza—those are just details learned over time. But that exact moment of a shared experience can be something moving and enjoyable.

Or, in Donna’s case, at the supermarket, something subtle and powerful.

I’m not always successful, but I try to remind myself that the seemingly bored person exchanging out your DVR at the cable store may have something unique to add to your day if given the opportunity. The soft-spoken lady on the phone assigned to help you understand the extra charge on your utility bill might just need a not-so-angry voice on the other end to keep her from chalking up her day as a total disaster. Or the disheveled person holding the sign at the red light might be looking for you to roll down your window and ask ‘what happened,’ instead of just needing a couple of bucks.

A tiny extra fiber of gratitude might be lurking, along with the next close encounter.