Your Single Serving Encounters

Still looking for more outside input. So post a single serving encounter here!

Man at Coffeeshop in Berkeley

He was so excited to serve us but also, so frantic because he was the only one serving at the cafe. Turns out he was Armenian but born in California.

Women at the bus stop

Waiting for the #88, the corner of Market and 40th in Oakland, CA. I had noticed the water splashed on the other side of the bench at the bus stop before I sat down, so when a woman came over to sit down I made sure to point out the wet spot to her so she wouldn't sit in it. She was a short heavy set African American woman with a matching black and blue outfit, light brown curly hair, a pink ipod case in her hand and a quarter sized dark mole on her upper left cheek. "My the weather is nice," she said. I perked up from my trance of staring off down the street, looking for the bus that was supposed to come. In the next five minutes we had several "pocket sized" conversations. The weather, her 12 year job at Berkeley where she makes $12.88 an hour, how today was her Friday, about her daughter losing her job and then going to back to college and taking care of her ailing grandfather...she is proud of her daughter. A man drove by in a tan Lincoln town car, rolled down the window and waver at her. "Right on time," he barked out the window. She told me that they see each other everyday when she is waiting for the bus and just like clockwork, he drives by.

UPS Woman

I had to call the UPS today to find out about picking up two packages. You never know what to expect when you call a help line, whether the person will be helpful or in a bad mood or something else. It was actually quite a pleasant experience, the woman was friendly and helpful. Sometimes when someone is nice in a customer service capacity it is a shock. But I wanted to make sure that she knew I appreciated her help so I thanked her and complimented her on her work. I could hear the smile on the other side of the phone. I don't think that people in that customer service type of industry are complimented enough if they do a good job...

Eeman

(I found this one in my writings from late 2007)

The shimmering lights gleamed brightly in the distance, a forest of small pinpricks under the dark nights sky. We could see Jerusalem, the WALL and Bethlehem from our vantage point in front of an old sandstone Greek monastery perched on the hillside; even the lights of Jordan were visible just over the horizon. We were bathed in darkness, the only lights illuminating us came from the headlights of passing cars speeding down the winding road, buses bringing hundreds of workers home and large semi-trucks transporting heavy stone blocks. But one car didn't pass us by. Its lights pulled up in front of us and the driver immediately stepped out. Ziad walked towards the front passenger door as it slowly inched open. The short scarf-wrapped body emerging to find itself enfolded in her uncle's embrace, the two bodies lit up periodically by the passing headlights or shrouded in shadows under the twinkling night sky.

I was standing 8 feet away, my vision obscured by the darkness and infrequent pulsating passing lights but the emotions that erupted around the two embraced forms smacked into my heart and brought a tear to the corner of my right eye. I stood silently off to the side until the hug ended. Ziad's niece, Eeman, had been in the Israeli prison for three and a half years; he hadn't seen her in that entire time and thus, for this one moment, he stayed in Palestine a few extra days before his next trip to the United States.

After shaking hands with the four men including her father, two brothers and uncle who had gone to the border in Tulkrem to pick her up, I stood waiting shyly behind the other American who had come with Ziad and his nephew Nidal to meet them on the outskirts of Bethlehem. We were introduced to Eeman one by one and she quietly extended her hand to greet me, her eyes lifting up in the darkness that my vision had adjusted to slightly. I could see the strength and what I can only describe as relief and happiness at being free mirrored in their reflection.

Doña Maria

(I found this one in one of my journal's from the Guatemala years 2004-2007)

Mateo and I leisurely climbed up a curving, very rocky and holey road in the community of Nuevo por Venir toward the radio location that Mateo had pointed out. As we rounded a corner we came upon a throng of people in front of what must have been the school. As my head crested the horizon, all eyes swung around and stared as “the gringo” entered the village. My pace slowed to the speed of a snail as my own gaze took in the hundreds of eyes fixed on my huge lumbering form. This all was definitely a little intimidating. This is the usual reaction of the people whenever I enter a village and yet, though I have become used to this response, it still makes me stare up into the sky as if there is something interesting to look at up there or find a rock on the ground that definitely needs careful scrutiny. This meeting turned out to be regarding a huge land dispute within the community. Before I could start feeling too awkward a woman came running at us since she recognized Mateo and whisked us off to her home. This turned out to be doña Maria and she took us down to, what was actually her parents home since we learned later that part of the land dispute in the community involved Maria's home being taken from her.

Later that evening we huddled in the small kitchen with doña Maria, her mother, 6 children, and the usual array of chickens and dogs. . The family is so poor, that was evident from their home, their clothing, and the stories that Maria told us over the course of the next few hours. Yet Maria invited us in with no hesitation, with no thought of compensation (she turned us down when we offered to pay a little for dinner), with no ulterior motives, just to share a small bit of food and conversation. She invited us in with the simple yet prevalent phrase in Guatemala, “pase adelante, hay agua para lavar” (come on in, there is water to wash [your hands].) This one phrase would turn into many thoughts for me during the trip as I contemplated the hospitality and openness of Guatemalan communities. We shared a simple yet exquisite meal of scrambled eggs and tortillas while we talked. I only spent those few hours with the family but I will never forget them...

Trader Joe's Guy

I had gum surgery today and so basically can only mumble out a few words if I really have to. We went to Trader Joe's to buy some fruits and yogurt so that I can make smoothies this week. When we got up to the register Marcella wasn't really paying attention as the cashier greeted us. I grunted and then poked her so that someone would respond. She responded and told him about my situation. He smiled and told us a story about how his uncle had surgery in his mouth years ago and they put a McDonald's cheeseburger in a blender for him. The uncle didn't eat it and the family had intended it as a joke...but this guy made us smile (I almost let a laugh escape at the ridiculousness of the story but that would have hurt)

Lady at Kaiser Permanente

Yesterday I went to the doctor with my temporary identification paper with my new last name on it and my old drivers license as a picture ID. When I walked up to the desk to show my idea, I, again, was a little flustered and tried to explain why I had two ID's with different names. The woman laughed and said she wished that she could find a man who would take her last name...Now that's two women in the last week who have made that comment. It made me smile.

Single Serving...

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