“THE BEST IS YET”
by Donald Whelpley, ©️2025
Walking the dog park trail Richard passed several “owners” walking their people. The people were all into their phones and expected their dogs to lead them safely down the paved path. He chuckled at that. You only get one life … and you allow your dog to choose how to spend it? What was he supposed to see? What was he looking for?
Then he saw his neighbor before his neighbor saw him. “Hey! Dave!” he called out. Dave took a double-take. It took a moment for him to realize that it was Richard, but he was “out of place” (before he only had seen him in the neighborhood). “Richard! What are you doing here? Did you misplace your pet?”
Richard laughed, “I just thought I’d take a walk in the world. What’s your dog’s name. I don’t think I know.”
Dave did one of those “raised shoulder” things, “I didn’t name him. Its Foosie.”
“I’m glad I didn’t know,” joked Richard.
“Say,” said Dave, “I’m sorry about your wife. My mom died last year. I still can’t believe it. Sometimes I start to dial the phone … “
“Yah!” replied Richard, “I still expect my bride to tell me I’m doing something the wrong way. So, now I don’t know when I am doing something right.”
Dave looked thoughtful, “Hey! Why don’t you come over for dinner Friday? I think its pot roast night. We set the table at six. Stop by about 5:45?”
Richard was about to say “No” but he remembered his feeling that the future would be better and instead said, “Sure! That’s nice. Thanks!”
Richard could not think of a single time when he called a business that he didn’t need to talk to an actual, English-as-a-first-language, human. He wondered why anyone would need to call to find out when the store was open (it was on their door and the website). He also never needed anything suggested by the recorded menu. “I’m having trouble getting the egg timer to correctly time eggs, so yah! of course I need to sign up for a membership?” He needed a person, period. Menus and phone queues were the opposite of “Your call is important to us.” “Why do we put up with that?” he wondered to himself, “What’s good for the business never seems to be good for me. Menus should reflect that the business already understands why customers are calling. No one who is calling needs an advertisement for MORE of what isn’t working.”
That was now his life. He desired a connection to real people with real human desires, hopes, and dreams. He needed to know things about them that no A.I. could tell him; like what made that individual laugh or cry or stand in awe of a sunset. Too few of those moments are shared with others standing alongside who would laugh, cry, or stand in awe with you.
Richard also found new words to describe himself. He loved this one: “Curmudgeon.” There were times it fit to a “T.” Other times (most of the time) he merely felt: “Curious,” or “Anticipatory,” or “Flummoxed.” He loved how the first and last rolled off his tongue. He could see colors and images when he said them. Both were vibrant hues, beautiful natural images, and worthy of long thought (shared with others).
As it neared 9 a.m. on a Thursday, he had an urge to go to a nearby coffee shop. He liked his own brewed coffee and it was less expensive, but he wanted to be around people. Before going he grabbed a Sharpie, a pair of “safety” scissors (like kindergartners use), and a folder with sheets of craft paper. Thick paper of various colors were in the folder, along with a sheet of instructions on how to make a paper giraffe (His wife’s hobby).
Ordering coffee (black and simple) and a scone for $6.27 he sat at a table near the wall so he could observe other customers. He first created a sign with carefully folded paper and his Sharpie: “Join me?” Then he began to craft a paper giraffe with a snip here and there, a fold just at this point, and some dots with the Sharpie. When he was finishing that a young lady stepped to the table, “That looks like fun!” she said. He invited her to sit and allowed her to choose her own paper to give it a try. He took a sip of coffee and a bite of his scone while she worked on her own giraffe. While she crafted she talked. Richard didn’t respond unless she asked something or unless what she said demanded a response.
She thanked him for the invitation and he told her she could keep her craft. She walked out happy and satisfied. It wasn’t long before the event repeated with a college student, a young man studying analytical math of some sort. Richard didn’t understand it, but he wasn’t there to learn math. Again, the student talked on and on about random things, little things on his mind which he never told anyone else.
So, every Thursday morning he took a sharable craft to the coffee shop. People talked, laughed, and he shared by listening and laughing with them. The fourth week, at another table, a woman had a bag of yarn, two sets of knitting needles … and a little sign, like his, “Join me?” The coffee shop became a community center on Thursday mornings, with people talking and laughing and learning funny little crafts with perfect strangers. It was the place to be and fast friends were found, not a few romances begun, and an older man with a little sign, “Join me?” at a side table. Everyone knew his name, but few knew his story. They didn’t have to … he wasn’t there for himself.
Richard was a bit surprised when the owner approached him on one Autumn morning. He thought to himself, “Uh-oh! This might not be good!” But it was. The owner joked with him for a minute, then asked if he could name Thursday mornings “Join me?” Day? Richard was thoughtful. “Sure. Just don’t make it an app. The point is to be ‘in person’.” By the next Thursday there was a sign above “his” table which read, “Join me?” and a blurb on the coffee shop website. Many wanted to take a selfie with him and his sign. But first he bought coffee and a scone.
Copyright 2025 Donald Whelpley
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