Nearly Everyone

Taking a relaxing morning walk along Nelson Bay in New Zealand, I pause and raise my arms to the sky in homage to life, inhale the gentle sea breeze from the west, and bask in a bright sun reaching out to warm my aging body. I watch sailboats, kayakers, and paddle-boarders on the water, hoping to join them on a future day.

Life is good.

My habit is to greet everyone I pass: “Good Morning! A Beautiful Day!” I mean, why not engage people and bring a smile to their faces, rather than ignore and walk silently by them? Their contrasting responses are bright or dim, regardless of young or old, male or female, alone or paired, hurried or not. Neither the sun nor the rain changes their disposition.

Most respond with a soft “Good Morning” and smile, exchanging goodwill and positive energy. A generous gift indeed. Sometimes, they respond: “It’s a beautiful day.” To evoke a response from young people, wired into blasting music, I wave with a smile—a few smile in return. It warms my heart to have such exchanges, affirming the ultimate goodness of humanity. I discover people are beautiful in all cultures, living out their lives in peace.

About one in three, however, offer no response—nor do they lift their eyes. Heads are down or turned away, ignoring my “Good Morning.” They may be hesitant to engage a stranger, avoiding unfamiliar social contact. Sometimes, before we pass, I say “Good Morning, Good Morning” rapidly with positive energy in hope they might absorb it. It always warms me when I elicit a faint smile. I wonder what baggage they carry into the new day? I whisper, “Let it go and enjoy the day.” Let the morning’s fresh air lift you into the sun, and allow hope or joy to enter.

My granddaughter, Madeline, once asked: “Do you talk to everyone, Grandpa?”

My response was: “No, but nearly everyone.” In coffee shops, restaurants, bars, parks, concerts, sporting events, hiking trails—everywhere. Life is too short and precious, not to engage others. In some cases, longer conversations ensue. In a few cases, new friendships form.

A few times, I say: “How’s it going?”

An angry voice replies: “It’s none of your business!”

Their dark disposition saddens a part of me. In a few cases, I encounter the same person later. Some recognize and avoid me—and I avoid them, respecting their privacy. Others approach me and apologize for their abrupt response.

“I was having a bad day.”

“Thank you. I hope today is better,” I respond. Often, further conversation ensues.

Sometimes, a passerby greets me: “Good Morning.” I smile and reply. I love that experience because it affirms there are others like me. The more, the better, I muse.

Children are truly beautiful in every culture. Their authenticity and radiance shine through their innocence. In countries off the beaten track, I look for opportunities to greet them with their teachers in schools, parks, or markets. They teach me so much and greet me with warmth and exuberance. They listen to my attempts to communicate with them in their language. Their glee is heartwarming.

Old people are a delight everywhere in the world, though talk comes slowly. When I travel, I take time to wander city parks and university campuses, sitting on benches with philosophers at heart, or across chessboards with political revolutionaries, or on lawns with students and professors. These conversations can last for hours and etch memories into my lifelines. None of these encounters occur without an initial greeting, and often a hug when we part. The parks of Europe, Central Park (NYC), and the Boston Commons are my favorites. Such wanderings last an entire day and are more meaningful than time spent in concerts or sporting events.

When I engage people, they touch my life and help me to become a better human being. They invariably teach me so much, and life is more fulfilling.

Today as I walk down the final mile-long beach, I notice several people collecting shells. I ask: “Have you found good shells?” Most, without hesitation, open their hands and show their shells, pointing out their most favorite one. I applaud their efforts. I call others nearby to join our circle and show their shells—a few exchange shells. Laughter creates instant bonding. As the group disperses, I say: “This was fun. Have a wonderful day.”

My philosophy is simple: better to be positive than negative, better to engage than to ignore. I am a better person for reaching out to others. It wasn’t always like this: watching my companion greet people over the years convinced me that it was a wonderful thing to do. It converted a young introvert into an old extrovert.

Unlike my companion, I don’t follow up with notecards or emails, creating an immense network of friends over the years. I shake a hand or wave goodbye and move on, though often in dreams, they unexpectedly cross my path again, greeting me and starting conversations. Those intimate encounters sustain me when loneliness and darkness abound.

Life is good.