People Watching

Do you ever see people and just…wonder?  I do.  I do it at the grocery store, while I’m driving, at the park, Doctor’s office, or wherever I happen to be at the time.  Yesterday, I was shopping for groceries I was in the milk aisle and at the other end was a young woman with a child that looked to be about 10 or 12.  He looked like most boys his age; completely disinterested in what his mother was shopping for, and clearly anxious to leave.  He was shifting his weight from one foot to the other; checking his phone every 5 seconds and rolling his eyes at his mother each time she asked him a question. As always, my mind began to wonder, does he throw darts at a picture of his mother behind the locked door of his bedroom?  Is he really a sweet boy who would do anything for his mom except act like he likes her in public?  I mean, really…what if one of his friends saw him?!  I wondered about Mom too, Is she a single mom, doing her best to raise this pre-teen on the meager child support she gets from her no good, deadbeat, ex?  Or is she a stay at home mom who drives a Lexus and just brings her son along for the company?  Hmmmm…I wonder.

Every now and then, I’ll be stopped at an intersection; you know, the ones where they only let one direction go at a time…4 lights…4 minutes each.  I’ll look to my right, or left, or both, to check out the people in the cars next to me.  Today, at this particular intersection, to my left, was a man about forty.  He was driving an older, white SUV-type vehicle.  He was drumming on the steering wheel with one hand, and nervously eating the fingernails off the digits on his other hand. My mind began to wonder, does he spend his workdays as an anxious percussionist?  What radio station is he listening to?  Is he worried about something, hungry, or is the nail-biting just a habit?  These little details interest me.  In the intersection to my right, is a woman about my age.  She is looking at me and when she sees me looking at her, she smiles.  I wave at her and smile back; this IS the friendly Midwest after all!  The voice in my head asks, “Do you know her?”  No…no I don’t.
“Then why did you smile at her?”  Because she smiled at me…DUH!   “She could be some kind of psycho.”  Yes, that’s true, but I doubt it.  “Yes, but how do you know?”  No, she was just a nice person.  “Yes, but…”  Enough!  By the way, this “conversation” with myself was a silent one.  I wouldn’t dare talk to myself, and then answer myself, when alone in the car!  How would that look to other people?

At work: yes, that’s right, not even my co-workers are safe from my inquiring mind.  I rarely wonder about those I work closely with. I know most of them quite well, and like me, their lives aren’t that interesting.  I know too much, therefore, I cannot come up with anything truly fantastic about them.  Reality gets the best of me in that situation. However, there are a few people I see in passing that put my mind to pondering.  There is the one lady I’m acquainted with.  She is older than I am, and she is very quiet.  She is always dressed smartly, her hair put up in a professional looking ponytail thing, sometimes with a braid, sometimes not.  She looks like the epitome of a career woman.  Sometimes when I see her, I wonder about her home life.  Is she married?  Is her husband a career man and hardly home?  Do they have 1.5 children and 1.7 pets?   Is she one of those domineering kind of women?  Does she expect her spouse to have dinner ready when she gets home?  Does she collect souvenir shot glasses?  Is that ponytail real?  For all I know, she is independently wealthy and only works here for something to do.  If that’s the case, I hate her.

I’m nosy.  Yes, I know I am.  I come by my inquisitor’s brain honestly.  My paternal grandmother was born in Virginia and raised on southern values.  She wanted to know EVERY BODY’S business and possessed no tact, nor diplomacy when asking about EVERY BODY’S business!  She even admitted it herself, and used to say, “If you don’t ask, you will never know!”  When I was younger, I used to think she was talking about knowledge in general. Like in school; when you don’t know the answer, you ask!  No.  What my sweet Grandma meant was that if you want to know something, ANYTHING, about ANYBODY, it is absolutely OK to ask!  I sure loved her!  God rest her sweet, nosy, soul.

Maybe the next time some strange woman smiles at me when I’m stopped at an intersection, I’ll take a different tack than the “smile and wave.”  Maybe I will casually roll down my window, smile, and shout, “WHAT ARE YOU SMILING AT WOMAN?  DO I HAVE SOMETHING ON MY FACE?”  Then, I’ll leave her looking after me, stunned, and eating my dust.  Only if the light turns green.