There doesn’t seem to be a gender or age component to this
particular oddity, the one involving the ball that refuses to bounce. I sat next to a 20-something young woman
recently who caught the ball and then let it fall with a hollow “THUNK” on the table between us, its jagged edges
preventing it from returning to me.
Then there was the strange man I sat next to at a party. (I could call him a stranger and be right either way.) He was a great catcher. Superb, in fact. But that ball, the one I kept trying to get into play, caught on the edge of the plastic chairs we were sitting in every time. I finally got tired of bending over to pick it up off the dusty ground, so just left it lying in the dirt. It got real quiet then between the stranger and me. (I guess he didn't bring any balls of his own.)
This happens so often that I play other games with it. (Might as well; I’ve got a silly looking ball in my hand, right?) I’ve sat at a dinner table and tossed the ball to the person sitting across from me, and then watched as the “catcher” has a wonderful time with that ball. I wait, I smile, I wonder, “Will THIS be the person who knows how to throw this darn ball back to me?” Only to watch in disappointment as he puts it down by his water glass. It won’t roll—remember, it’s got edges—so it just sits here. Mute. Silent. Dead.
Then there was the strange man I sat next to at a party. (I could call him a stranger and be right either way.) He was a great catcher. Superb, in fact. But that ball, the one I kept trying to get into play, caught on the edge of the plastic chairs we were sitting in every time. I finally got tired of bending over to pick it up off the dusty ground, so just left it lying in the dirt. It got real quiet then between the stranger and me. (I guess he didn't bring any balls of his own.)
This happens so often that I play other games with it. (Might as well; I’ve got a silly looking ball in my hand, right?) I’ve sat at a dinner table and tossed the ball to the person sitting across from me, and then watched as the “catcher” has a wonderful time with that ball. I wait, I smile, I wonder, “Will THIS be the person who knows how to throw this darn ball back to me?” Only to watch in disappointment as he puts it down by his water glass. It won’t roll—remember, it’s got edges—so it just sits here. Mute. Silent. Dead.
I do this several times with the dinner guests until I tire
of the game. At that point, the only sounds drifting around the table consist
of the clink of silverware or dishes being passed. And all the balls sit on
their edges, simply because so many people have forgotten how to
play.
Or converse. The art
of conversation seems to have gone the way of the dinosaur. This is one issue
that can’t be blamed strictly on texting, either (although texting certainly
hasn’t helped anyone actually “talk” to others). I have observed and
participated in sad scenarios like this one for some time now:
“Hi, this is my first
time here! I’m Deborah. What’s your name?” I lob the ball into play.
“[Strange man says
his name.]” THUNK. The ball just found its first edge as it
drops.
“How long have YOU
been part of this group?” I pick the
ball up off the ground and try again; I hit it back across the net.
“Oh, about a year! I
started coming after I moved here, and didn’t know anyone.” I wait,
but then Oops!…the ball falls to the
ground again, another edge notched into its surface.
“Where did you move
here from?” I’m nothing if not
persistent, so back across the net goes the ball.
“California. My
grandchildren live here, so it’s been nice to be closer to them.” CLUNK!
It sits there again, lonely and quiet.
“How many
grandchildren do you have?” I know, I
know…why am I still trying to get the ball back, you ask? I agree; this is
getting pretty tiring.
All I can say is that I really enjoy meeting and talking to
new people. I've found I even enjoy more now than when I was younger. We all have such great stories and experiences—at least at last
recollection we did—and these shared experiences can bring us together in
some very important ways. Regardless of our age, or ethnicity, or gender, or
place of birth we are more similar as humans than we are different. We might even learn something from each other.
But we have to talk to each other to find that out, right? I’m
exhausted most of the time from stooping over to pick that silly ball up. So,
for those of you who need concrete lessons, let’s start that “conversation”
between strange guy and me over again:
“Hi, this is my first
time here! I’m Deborah. What’s your name?”
“[Strange man says
his name.] Is this your first time here?”
“Yes, it is! It seems
like a nice group. How long have YOU been a member?”
“Oh, about a year! I
started coming after I moved here, and didn’t know anyone. Did you meet a group member somewhere or did you just find
us on line?”
“Actually, I met
Susie at a networking meeting last week, and she invited me to come tonight!
You mentioned that you moved here; where did you move here from?”
“California. My
grandchildren live here, though, so it’s been nice to be closer to them. Do YOU
have any family in the area?”
“Yes, I do. My
daughter lives here and my mother lives with me. I don’t have any grand
children yet. How many do you have?”
And the ball bounces on, no edges to catch on anything at all! The
ball stays in the air more than it drops and it’s a lot more fun to play the
game.
Conversation doesn’t
have to be a mystery. It simply involves showing a little interest in the person
on the other side of the net. Enough to throw the ball back at least once in a while.
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