A Guy Named Roger
While running this morning I met a guy named Roger.
He was directing traffic for a gas/utility company that was doing work on a nearby line.
Because there were few cars, I stopped to say hello. Plus, in full disclosure, it delayed the big hill straight ahead. Convenient.
Amidst chirps from his walkie-talkie, we chatted.
I learned he lives in northern Baltimore County. Me too.
He rarely eats red meat. Me too.
He’s got a senior in high school. Me too.
He’s working hard to help his child experience college. Me too.
He thinks 2020’s been a crazy year. Me too.
He wishes we could all do better at getting along with each other. Me too.
He’s an African-American man. I’m a Caucasian man.
Both of us, humans. Made by the same One. So, related.
As we parted ways, unfortunately, the hill was still there. As I huffed and puffed up it, I couldn’t help but think again of some things I really believe:
There are more me-toos around us than we realize. Risking conversation uncovers them, and makes the world a little less broken…
… and “strangers” sounds so sterile. We should change that. “Family-we’ve-not-yet-met”… yeah, that’s better.
Let’s run on. But pause when we need to.