You may have been reading my posts lately (especially yesterday’s) and thinking, “Sheesh, a lot of odd tings happen to this girl.”
And you’d be right. Maybe life is odd in general, and if I’ve just been daydreaming too much up till now to notice.
Take today, for example. I was walking through a courtyard downtown, one with actual trees and grass. Off in the distance, out of the corner of my eye, I took vague notice of a small man who didn’t fit in with the expensively dressed crowd of business people and tourists.
I wasn’t looking at him, but was aware of him, in a “One of those things is not like the others” kind of way.
He was actually walking away from me on a diagonal. I got the sudden flash, however, that despite the crowd of people in this courtyard and the fact that he was far away and walking further away, he would shortly be walking straight to me.
Guess I don’t need to tell you what happened next.
He spun around as if I’d called him and snaked his way through everyone and walked directly to me, sort of cutting me off at the pass.
For some reason, this didn’t freak me out the way it might have, say, 90 days ago.
He was a tiny leprechaun of a man with wild white hair, grizzled beard and Paul Newman blue eyes (the rest was more Randy Newman).
He launched into this story:
“My name is Sam Cudmore and I’m from Brantford, Ontario, home of Wayne Gretzky and I gotta get home to Brantford and getta cuppa coffee.”
I’ve been asked for spare change to help someone get home or to buy a coffee, but never both. Very creative blending both stories, I thought.
My strategy of pre-loading a pocket with coins (to be prepared for just such an occasion), failed me — my outfit today had no pockets.
So I had to do what caused me to come up with this strategy in the first place — awkwardly fish around in my purse while simultaneously protecting all the valuables held within. (You know, like my Pizza Hut souvenir pen and my freebie Clinique lipstick.)
While I did this I asked him about Brantford and only then realized how emphatic he’d been about telling me his name, Sam Cudmore.
It’s something we take for granted, I suppose, to be surrounded by people who know your name.
As I handed him the money, I said “God bless, Sam,” and waved goodbye.