One of the items on my list of seventy-five things of seventy-five repetitions each that I set myself to do before my seventy-fifth birthday (see thingstodoinmy75thyear.blogspot.com) was to have conversations with seventy-five strangers. This was not an easy task for me. I'm genial enough, on the whole, but I don't have the social skill of some admirable people who can seemingly talk to anyone and make that person feel comfortable and interesting. I'm better at it than I was as a kid, especially after my seventy-five conversations with strangers last year, but it still takes an effort.
Apparently, though, some people simply have that skill by virtue of who they are. A six-year-old, for instance, hasn't had time to develop the awareness of social skills. A six-year-old just is who he is. I think I might be able to start a conversation with a six-year-old because I'm pretty good with children, but, basically, my fallback position is not to say anything.
Therefore, after an excursion during the Thanksgiving holiday with Mike's family (see last week's post), when I found myself standing in the open door of the car next to six-year-old Morgan, who was already in his car seat, I was just waiting for everyone else to straighten out their gear and put things in the car and find their places. I wasn't thinking about starting a conversation. But affable Morgan took advantage of the moment to say to me, "I noticed that you like to knit. What other crafts do you like to do?"
I was astonished. It was a surprisingly mature way of relating, not only to observe that I had been knitting during the weekend but to transpose that observation and make the reasonable assumption that I must also do other crafts—and then to use that knowledge to start a conversation!
I recovered from my surprise fast enough not to lose the relationship opportunity Morgan was offering, but not so smoothly that I could answer appropriately. The first thing that came to mind was that I liked to sew, so that's what I said, but if I had thought more clearly, I would have realized that that wasn't likely to lead to the conversation Morgan wanted to start. He stumbled for a minute trying to find a response, so I quickly added that I liked paper crafts, too. Morgan brightened. There was a conversational gambit he could hang onto! He said he liked to make origami. I had just finished making seventy-five origami ornaments (for the 75x75 project), so we had a nice little conversation about what we had made and what was most difficult or most fun.
He's just a kid. His social sills with his sister and cousins are no better than those of any other child's. He fights and teases; he plays tricks and wants another child's toys. So how had he already developed such easy social skills with adults? He's like his grandfather and his father, who both have that conversational ability, so it must be an inherited trait. (My father, for instance, was notorious for not being able to make small talk.) I think it is a beautiful trait. If Morgan demonstrated how easy it is to start a conversation with a stranger (just pay attention and make connections), he also showed me how valuable it is. Having had that small interaction with Morgan, I'll feel like we're friends when I see him again. And maybe, having been tutored by example, I'll be able to find the conversational opener myself that time.
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