Larry

I pulled my car into the one-stall parking lot of a small family-owned plant nursery and flower shop. Would I find begonias among the meager selection of flowers on a single outdoor table under a temporary roof?  I did.  There were 12 tiny plastic sleeves of 4 each, and I bought 7 of them. 

At one point the owner approached me.  “Hi, I’m Larry.”  He extended his hand in greeting.  His deep brown eyes spoke volumes: I live on a shoestring and am grateful to be independently employed even though I’m not highly educated.  I love and respect people, and am committed to serving you. He could have been Barney Fife’s cousin – slender with bulging eyes and an I-care-about-you, sheepish grin.  Or maybe Larry the Cucumber on Veggie Tales.

After selecting the begonias, I decided to bring up another plant-related matter and pulled samples of spotted dead leaves from our rhododendrons from my purse. I asked him if he knew what was causing the blight.  “I don’t know, but I DO know someone who does!  Let me give her a call – she owns a big nursery.”  In a few minutes he cheerily reported that our plants were dealing with a fungus infestation, and to treat them with an anti-fungal specific to rhododendrons.  He seemed genuinely delighted to have been a part of the problem-solving.

I couldn’t help but compare this experience with yesterday’s encounter with Pink Lady at the mammoth super-store.  Although we Americans often navigate public places (large or small) with invisible blinders and impersonal attitudes in place - our self-protective devices - it’s encouraging to bump into complete strangers who take time to intersect.