The Big Disclaimer: In view of the last post and its upbeat account of successful overtures to total strangers, it is only fair to repeat that not everyone is alit with delight at these attempts. There are plenty of pratfall moments when the strangers are taken aback by me. Even long-term acquaintances and friends have found me baffling, annoying, or just a ghostable jerk. Mileage may vary widely.

That said, this week had a few more nice outcomes and reasons to be thankful.

A recent annual physical exam and its lab blood work showed that calcium is running low despite a daily dose of blackstrap molasses, nuts, and jumbo portions of leafy greens. This may explain an uncharacteristic craving all week for sardines. At the supermarket I picked up four cans, and headed to the cash register. The cashier, with some apprehension, let me know that there is a current supply-chain limit on sardines: only one sardine can per family. “Oh, okay. Sure thing: thank you for letting me know.” I handed over three cans. It was very touching to see this perfectly blameless young lady apologize further to me. “No, it’s totally understandable,” I told her. “We’ve overfished the oceans to oblivion. We’re screwed! Unless of course we start eating the jellyfish, which are taking over the world. Besides, I studied in the Soviet Union*** where every day they rationed anything worth eating. Those cashiers were always ready to holler at us. Like, ‘Where do you get off, asking for two packages of cottage cheese? You’ll get one package and like it.’ It’s a pleasant change that you didn’t yell at me. Besides, look around this store. It’s dazzling, how much incandescent tradeskill and thought and care it takes to import all this stuff and stock the shelves and keep this place going. Thousands of items! Really remarkable.” She blinked for a long moment and smiled. “That’s quite a perspective you’ve got there.”

*** I do endeavor not to mention the Soviet Union, because this level of distant history makes people glaze over. It makes me sound like Duffy from F Troop, going on and on about he fought at the Alamo shoulder to shoulder with Davy Crockett.

On the elevator at the gym, a group of young men from China came bursting in with high spirits and happy laughter and chat. Their Chinese had a strong clear Beijing accent, and I enjoyed listening to them and thinking back on Mandarin class from 2016. Finally at our floor as they jostled out of the car and headed toward the weight room, I called out a phrase from class, “Jiā yóu! Jiā yóu!” (Literally, “Add oil! Add oil!” It means “Step on the gas! You’re rocking this — go you!” On our basketball court, the Chinese players shout it to each other in encouragement all the time.) These young men stopped short, spun around, looked me over, and burst out laughing. “You said that really well!” they replied, and waved goodbye all smiles.

A sprightly little guy, four years old or so, was taking up the entire pavement with his zigzag swoops hither and yon. I stepped aside to make room for him and his parents and his stroller to pass by. His parents were self-conscious about this, and urged their son to stop blocking the way and let me by. Their son stopped and blinked up at me in a shy way. I threw out my hands and said “Look! The whole street is a hopscotch board!” Dad explained with a smile “We’re not stepping on any cracks today.” Of course like their kiddo I started hopping from square to square. He was delighted. We found it a much more satisfactory way to get down the street.

Back at our very large multi-floor gym, same elevator, someone made a nice overture to me. I hopped on and pressed an Up button. Because students at the gym are careful to avoid looking at or speaking to one another, it was a pleasant surprise when a young woman said “Oh! I’m sorry. You may be getting the scenic route. We were heading down first.” I said “Oh, it’s fine. In fact, I take the elevator at every opportunity because I’m looking for someone who works out here, but I have no idea what part of the gym he’s likely to be in.” She gave me my laugh for the week by telling me “Oh no — you’re LOOKING for someone? In THIS place?” She lowered her voice and with a look of wild caution said in a horror movie whisper “It’s a Corn Maze out there.”

Last Friday after supper I walked to the food coop with my gallon jug for the daily refill of filtered water. (At sunset it’s a beautiful walk. There is a line of tall fir trees, and the lights of planes from the airport line up right over them so that each tree gets its own slowly moving evening star.) On the way home I passed two distinguished-looking Hasidic men heading to the shul for the start of Shabbat. One never can tell whether these men might be uncomfortable with a street greeting from some female outsider (one wearing men’s trousers and a high-resolution vest, and carrying packages on the Sabbath). But I tried it anyway. “Shalóm! Gut shábbos!” These men stopped short, looking pleased. The elder one exclaimed “Shalóm! Are you Jewish??” I explained “No, but I used to belong to a Yiddish singing circle.” He said “Well, you said that really well!” They wished me a good night and headed off to prayers.

On the way home with my water refill jug I stopped to point my cell phone at a tree just as a woman came around the corner with her dog. “I’m not filming people!” I called out to her. “I’m only recording that bird.” She and the dog stopped, and the dog searched my duffle bag in hopes of something to eat. “I’m sorry,” I told him. “It’s only unpopped multi-color organic corn kernels from the coop.” His owner explained that her doglet hits up everyone for treats (and in this dog-loving town often gets them). She and I had a good chat about the local woodpeckers, warblers, and wrens.

A promising social movement nowadays is Tool Libraries. They are springing up in communities all over. People can donate and borrow tools and equipment. More important, they can gather and talk about their do-it-yourself projects, and share expertise and suggestions. My first visit to ours was a daunting experience. It was packed to the rafters with mysterious intimidating machines for people to borrow, or to use on site in classes under teacher supervision. The place was packed! The staff that day were college-age gals firing off banter and advice in incomprehensible tool jargon as borrowers flocked in and checked out gear.

I went back for a Fabric Fix-It night, where volunteers with sewing machines mended clothing. One of them repaired my best dress to look better than new with beautiful decorative reinforcement stitching. Hopeful clients left delighted with their repaired clothes, exchanging excited stories about how much these garments meant to them. This week for Gadget Repair night I brought my vintage little Cuisinart, and a volunteer diagnosed it on sight and gave me a replacement handle screw and good advice on care and upkeep.

The Library calendar shows all kinds of wonderful classes and events coming up. They have a giveaway book library, a giveaway garden of donated flowers and herbs, facilities for accepting non-recyclable trash, and handcraft groups.

What kind of contribution can a person like me make, someone with no three-dimensional skills at all?

Then I remembered something squirreled away in my closet. It’s an impulse bargain from years ago; at a “We’re Moving Today” sidewalk sale I snapped it up for just a couple of bucks. (It would be fun to add a photo of it here, but that might look like some kind of product endorsement.) This is brand new still with the tags attached. It’s a full-length rain parka with a moisture-wicking inner lining, in blazing high-visibility fluorescent yellow, men’s size XXL. It turned out to be way too big and rugged for me, the kind of rig that calls up visions of people on a ship deck catching king crab. Today I dug it out of the closet and packed it up. Then I wrote thank-you notes for the fix-it volunteers and staff, explaining just how helpful their help really was. I added a box of cookies, and dropped it all off at the Library today. One of the young men behind the counter found that the parka is just his size. We all had a good visit.

As I was leaving one of them called out “We’ll see you next time you need a gadget fixed!” I said “I’ll go home and find something to break!”