The Paths We Cross: Back Down Memory Lane

At last census, there were 9,818,605 people in the county of Los Angeles.
What are the chances of crossing paths with a person you met 45 years ago who was married to your father’s brother’s wife’s nephew? Does that make you related? I’m thinking that at the time she would have been my cousin-in-law. Maybe not.
But it is amazing still of the paths we cross and the coincidences or the chance meetings that occur throughout our lives.

This week I attended a ‘Gold’ party at a very good friend’s house. My friend, whom I will respect her privacy, knows how to throw parties, and she’s a great cook, so when she sent the evite, I accepted, mainly to snag a slice of her pound cake and munch on her famous fried chicken. The night before the party, she reminded me to dig into my jewelry box and bring my old, unwanted and even broken gold jewelry. After getting dressed I dug through a dusty jewelry box with jewelry I kept saying I was going to get fixed, threw a few pieces in my cosmetic bag and headed over with the intention of socializing with old friends (I’m not recruiting, by the way for a Gold party, so please keep reading).

Several hundred dollars later, with a big smile and a happy tummy, in appreciation I handed the ‘Gold Vendor' a complimentary signed copy of my book. She read the cover, looked at me and said, ‘I know some Gants.’ I told her they were probably my relatives, so we began to draw a mental twig (not a tree, just a twig). It turned out that she was married to my father’s brother’s wife’s nephew. What was fun about this, was that she reminisced about their wedding reception, in 1966. I was present at the same reception, at the tender young age of five. But I remember it distinctly because my brothers played a prank on me that we still laugh about and remember to this day.

Because I was the only little girl there, I was allowed to sit in the living room with the grown ups. My mother had taught us that children should be seen and not heard, so I sat quietly with my hands in my lap while my two brothers, acting as tykes usually do, jumping, running and tussling, played outside.

A little while later my brothers, whispering, walked through the living room and called me into the kitchen, where laid out on the table were beautiful arrangements of hor d'oeuvres. My brothers turned to me and said politely, “Do you want some grapes?” Of course I said yes, pleased that they weren’t teasing me and that they were behaving quite nicely without my parents in the same room. They pointed to the dish of ‘grapes’ and stood back. Their immediate retreat should have been a hint and a half, but I was so impressed with their desire to ‘share’ that I took a handful and plopped them into my mouth. I turned around and looked at them both, and they were bent over laughing as hard as they could. They traumatized me, and to this day, I will not allow olives on my menu.

Back to my story: Again, it is amazing the paths we cross and the people we meet. My uncle is no longer married to his wife of 1966, and the Gold Vendor is no longer married to his ex-wife’s nephew. But she was such a nice and pleasant person, that I like to think that we were cousins at one time, reunited under the circumstances of chance.

When was the last time you took a walk down memory lane? Pick up the phone, call a loved one or friend, and make them smile with a sweet memory.

Crossing Paths - Self Confidence

Sitting on the train as I headed to work, I did something I don't usually do - I watched the people getting on the train as it pulled into one particular stop. I wasn't looking for anyone, I guess it was just that I was taking a break from reading. I'm not a people watcher, but a young man getting on the train caught my eye. He was extremely well-dressed, and his suit, from what I could see, appeared to be tailored to fit. Good shoes, great satchel, well groomed, and he stepped onto the train and began walking down the aisle with a very self-confident stride. As he approached my aisle I looked up at him and we smiled. I've been told I have a friendly, or approachable smile, and I appreciate that because he asked, 'Is this seat taken?' I thought briefly of Forrest Gump and shook my head. 'It's yours,' I smiled and he sat down.

I complimented him on his suit and he immediately launched into conversation - he was headed for his 3rd job interview with a global company, had just received his MBA and felt great about the possibilities. My human resource instincts immediately kicked in, and I started to offer him some tips on what to say and not to say or do during his 3rd, and what would probably be his final interview in offering him the position. His demeanor was very sure, confident, but not arrogant. He was right at that fine line that possesses just a hair of humbleness, but enough confidence to ensure his place.

I mentioned how challenging and dismal the job market was and he seemed surprised and shook his head. He said, 'the job market isn't that bad. You just have to know where to look, be persistent and keep your head up.'

His words surprised me. I immediately became his silent cheerleader, and said a prayer asking God to allow the young man to do well enough on his job interview to secure the position he sought.

We talked for about an hour, and when we reached my train exit, he asked for my name and number; he wanted to call and tell me later in the week if he got the job. The next day I lost my cell phone on the train, and because it usually takes 1-2 weeks for lost items to reach the train's lost and found department, I had the phone shut off.

That young man and I may probably never cross paths again, but he taught me a lesson in confidence. I learned that even with today's economy, there are unemployed people out there that feel so good about themselves, that they continue to smile and be confident in the face of pessimism and discouraging numbers. I pray for more smiles, more confidence and positive attitudes for those in these troubled times who feel they want to give up, and for those who refuse to believe that beyond the dark clouds is the dawn of a brand new day.

Crossing Paths - Wake up call

Everyone has prejudices. Colors, skin tones, religious opinions, ethnic background, sexual orientation, national origin, disability, age. Some are blatant and extend only at the surface; some are deeply rooted; some are casually passed as an insensitive remark and some are passed along from mouth to ear, from one generation to the next.

There is no big or little prejudice; they are all assuming and discriminatory. I never fail to be amused when I hear brothers of African-American descent STILL complain how a white woman clutches her purse closer to her side if they enter an elevator, or sit next to her on a bus or train.

Have they ever been robbed by a black man? What is the reasoning behind this slight but obvious and insecure movement?

But I digress. I discovered my 'prejudice' a few days ago. It was short-lived; but none the less I was ashamed and I thank God for the wake up call.

While I was standing on the platform waiting for my commuter train, I overheard a woman's voice asking a man if the next train due to arrive was going east or west. Her question was not clear; it was apparent she had a speech impediment, perhaps due to a stroke, childhood disease or maybe she was deaf. Her words were so warbled and difficult to understand that finally after her nth attempt at getting her question answered, she gave up. I didn't turn around. I could hear her voice farther away, asking someone else, but apparently they couldn't understand either, and she walked back towards where I was standing and very softly and politely tapped me on the shoulder.

I turned around and told her the next train was traveling east and would arrive in about five minutes. I turned away, and immediately I was ashamed of myself. My mother taught me better than this. Selfishly, I didn't want to start a conversation for several reasons. I was in the middle of reading a really good book, and I didn't want to take the time to ask her over and over again to repeat her questions or comments just because I couldn't understand her.

When the train car pulled up I momentarily forgot about her and searched for a seat. Lucky me - I found one and plopped down, speaking briefly to my seat mates and burrowing my nose into the book. At the very next train station, the woman sitting next to me got up and exited the train. The next person who sat down, out of at least 200 people riding on the metrolink, was the woman from the train station whose speech I could not understand.

She smiled at me, and I looked into her eyes. She was probably in her 60's, and had the kindest face. She said, 'thank you for helping me. this is my first time catching the train. I was visiting my cousin, and her neighbor dropped me off here so I wouldn't have to catch the bus all the way home.'

Her speech was still difficult to understand, but her words were now clear to me because not only did I open my eyes, I opened my ears. I closed my book and smiled back. We talked about our children and grandchilden, one of my favorite subjects. I shared my pictures of the little ones with her and she brought out pictures of her grandchildren. It was one of the most pleasant conversations I've ever had on the train. There was not one comment that she made in which I did not understand her. She never brought up the reason for her slow speech and distorted words, but to my ears they no longer were, I discovered. When she disembarked, I said a silent prayer for her, and also asked for God to forgive me for being so selfish.


Just as I take a daily journey on a train, our ears and eyes should journey to listen and see the differences in people, accept them and keep on moving. We learn so much from people we meet, and God, in his infinite wisdom, always seems to allow different paths to interconnect for a variety of reasons. We may not ever discover what the reason is, but I'm so very glad he is God. And He has a reason and a purpose for everything.

Crossing Paths - A Teen In Pain

Ninety-Nine percent of my blogs will discuss the paths I cross with people I meet daily. Interaction plays a huge role in my thoughts, because it is during this interaction that a revelation, coincidence or a chance connection occurs.

It is up to the individual what their perception is as to how big or small the world is. I personally think that the world is small, and the chance meetings we have are more than coincidental. I believe there is a reason, a message to be transmitted and/or a lesson to be learned with each and every one. We cannot always know or decipher the reason; and perhaps it is because the person that we spoke to, smiled at or complimented simply needed to hear some words of encourgement or something to uplift them.

As I sat on the train on my way home a couple of weeks ago, I sat back and began listening to my ipod. A co-worker of mine had just uploaded some new songs for me, and named the playlist, "Train Ride Home." So I began listening, smiling at some of the retro selections he had picked for my listening pleasure, including 'Get By' by Talib Kweli. When Miles Davis' version of 'So What' came on, I relaxed even more and started looking around. I noticed a young black girl, probably about seventeen or eighteen, sitting in the row across from me. She was holding a little girl, who was asleep in her arms. The little girl looked to be no older than two. There was a large shopping bag in the seat next to her, and a suitcase in front of her. I stared at her for a minute, because of the expression on her face. It held so much pain! My heart began to ache for her, and all kinds of thoughts went through my mind. Without a doubt she was a teen mother, but the sadness in her eyes held something that told a monumental tale, and I was sure that the precious little sleeping girl she held had something to do with it.

I said a prayer for her, and asked God to use me to help her in some kind of way. God does not play. When you ask for something, you better be prepared to do what he tells you.

Something told me to put away my ipod, so I did, and I pulled out my laptop. About 7 minutes after my feeble prayer, the girl waved her hand at me, and said, "Ma'm,' can I plug my cell phone into your laptop for a few minutes to charge it? My phone is dead. I have a USB port."

I jumped on it. Nodding my head, I said, "Why don't I sit beside you? Then that way, I can work and you can hold onto your phone." She moved her bags, and about ten minutes later she revealed the reasons for her disposition: a one night stand with a boy she met at a party; teen pregnancy, high school dropout, county aide recipient. It was sad, and now I understood her pain. What was worse was that now that the distant father was paying child support, the family wanted to spend time with the little girl. So she was taking her daughter to strangers for the first time. It made my heart ache for the child, because her plan was to leave her there with them for the weekend. She and the father had minimum contact, but it was what he wanted.

I asked her what was she going to do with her free time. She said she didn't know, but she was thinking about looking for a job. She was in a state-funded return-to-work program and was learning new skills. I told her about a couple of schools that had three-month nursing assistant programs, and told her that if she was able to get in one, once she finished I would try to help her find a job.

I gave her my office number and asked her to call me. Before I disembarked, she smiled, and even laughed at something silly I said. Her smile spoke volumes. I hope she will call. I want to help, even if it is to simply point her in the direction of some resources that will prevent her and her daughter from contributing to urban Los Angeles' growing statistics of single unwed mothers. And if she doesn't call, its okay. God heard my prayer as he always does, and through Him I hope I planted a seed of some hope or encouragement.

Crossing Paths

Have you ever gone on vacation to another state or country and run into someone you know? How amazing is it in this big world to live in California, go another country, decide to skip the requisite package tour and instead visit an out of the way dive and run into someone you went to school or college with or worked with years ago? Odd, but it has happened.
One Friday afternoon I exited my commuter train, sat down in the shade on a bus stop in the charming and quaint suburban town of Claremont, California to wait for my ride. In California language, it was a perfect day. The breeze was warm, and the sun threw hints of summer lingering on my face, even though it was the first day of October. By my estimation, it was eighty degrees. The weather and the surroundings were so lovely that I selfishly wished on my husband’s delay so that I could have more time to enjoy it.
A band was setting up for a free jazz concert at the depot, and every one that passed me slowed down enough to exchange pleasantries.
At the train depot in Claremont, the park like area surroundings encompassed the equivalent of approximately an acre to which there were four black wrought iron benches placed roughly twenty to fifty feet apart.

I sat down on one bench to face the band and watch them for a while as they performed mike checks and tuned instruments. When I decided to read, I moved over to another vacant bench located closer to the street and facing a small parking lot. About fifteen minutes into my reading, a pleasant looking woman, mid fifties, with a cast on her left arm came walking by and sat down on my bench on the other end.
We nodded and spoke, and she told me she had caught an earlier than usual train home and was waiting for her husband. I revealed that I too had caught an earlier train home, and had about an hour wait but I didn’t mind because the weather was so nice.
We continued talking, sharing our lengthy commuter trek stories but both agreeing that it was worth it for the work we performed. She asked me where I worked, and I told her. She told me she used to work for a company with a similar name. When I told her my company had merged with her company, she told me she ran that company for several years and began to name some of my coworkers.
When her ride drove up, she walked to the car, then came back to talk to me again, asking about several other former coworkers and people I might know. We exchanged names and waved goodbye.
When I think of that day, I wonder about the amazement of coincidences and the events that lead up to those events that lead up to those events. She'd caught an earlier than usual train home from Van Nuys, a city approximately 100 miles away from where we were sitting. I had caught an earlier train home and instead of exiting at my normal station about another two miles away, I'd stopped here to wait for my ride, deciding to disembark in Claremont because of the park like atmosphere.
One woman she asked about in particular was a resident I very rarely saw, usually just once a month. Remarkably, I had run into her the day before, and we talked for just minutes, but enough for her memory and our conversation to be indelibly stamped in my mind.
I also thought it to be interesting that usually when people see someone reading a book, they speak and keep on moving, not insist on a conversation. And it wasn’t that she insisted, it was that I believe she saw me and felt a connection to the point where she felt drawn to make conversation. The mystery is that I will probably never know what the connection was. Here you have a fifty to sixty year old white woman in a predominately white town sitting on a bus bench waiting on for her husband, and a forty something black woman with wild hair whipped up by the wind waiting for her man.
For the fifteen minutes we talked, we became transitory friends, laughing, appreciating the weather, life and complimenting the people we'd discovered that we jointly knew. We also discovered that we'd both been invited to the same retirement party earlier that year for a mutual coworker and we both had declined for various reasons. I wonder if we had attended that retirement party, would we have been introduced? Met? Crossed paths and enjoyed a polite conversation as we did on that Friday afternoon at the train depot? Probably not, because of the circumstances that threw us together.
As of the last census, there were 33 million people living and working in California. In the county of Los Angeles, there are nearly 11 million people. In the city of Van Nuys there are approximately 46,000, and in the city of Claremont there are about 36,000.

For in life, I believe there are no coincidences; just the happenstance that, regardless of the population or the location, a series, or chain of events will always cause people to cross paths in some way, shape fashion or form wherever they go.