Humans of Everywhere

Have you guys seen those books, you know, Humans of New York, or maybe Humans of the Subways, or whatever?  Full disclaimer, I don't think I've ever read one, but I'm familiar with the concept because I have a cousin who is purportedly the instigator of this project, which is similar by nature.  Funny, I talk to dozens of people everywhere I go, but never have I talked to this particular cousin about this particular project.  Of course, we live far away one from another.  I saw on the website that the original People of Pictou County project was started in May of 2013.  For all I know I haven't even seen her since then.  Shameful, yes.

Anyhow, I have never started a project like that.  I don't go around canvassing for cool stories or interesting vignettes from the people I meet.  But...  Sometimes I think I should.  I could literally write a book about all the different cool stories I hear, the little glimpses into so many different lives.  Sometimes they're non-consequential, like someone telling me that they had an arranged marriage, sometimes they make me cry (sir, I have never forgotten you), and sometimes they're just... cute.

(I have, in the spirit on irony, pretended to trademark the "LifeStory" phrase, even.  I gave it up after about a day, though.  It was tedious and not at all ironic, when it came down to it.)

The other day, for instance, I was in the store, trying to make a return.  There was an older couple in line in front of me and they were likewise making a return, and, as is the manner of my whole life, somehow they started talking to me about, you know, their whole life.

Years ago she was on a blind date with a guy who ended up just being stupid.  I mean, throwing popcorn at her in the movie theater kind of stupid.  She was trying to make him stop ("He was embarrassing and rude!") when another theater patron came to her rescue.  ("I told him to stop disturbing the rest of us and leave his gal alone!")  As is the manner with all cute stories, there was a twist: patron B realized that he knew patron A, and felt embarrassed that his "friend" would treat a gal like this.  When the girl realized that someone sided with her on the rudeness of her blind date ("I vowed never would I endure a blind date again!  Of course," she added slyly, "I didn't have to!") she demanded that he (the friend of the blind date) take her home.

("Were you there with another person?"
"Yes, but we were there as friends, a group of us, and I sent them all home together.")

This didn't mean he was off the hook.  No way, no friend of this rude boy was a friend of hers.  So, when they got home, she had him drop her off a block away from her house.  And pretended to go into some random house till her left.

So, when he came back the next day to find her ("She was smart, and she was sassy!  A gal like that is hard to come by!") she wasn't at the house he expected.  Undeterred, he went on to the next house.  Also, the next.  Also, the next.  He went to every house on the block until he found her.  And even so, she wasn't so sure about him.  She did decide to give him a chance, though, because she admired his tenacity.

I'll spare you the details of their whole story, though I'm pretty sure I got the whole thing, but one notable detail was that on their first real date they went to this fancy restaurant and they were seated and then she started seeing other meals as they were coming out and looked him straight in the eye and said, "I don't have money for this, and neither do you.  We're not eating here." and they left.  ("We had a burger instead," he said.  "It's all I wanted anyhow.")  "That was more than 55 years ago," she said proudly, "and I've been saving him money ever since!"

By this point we had two sales clerks and about half a dozen onlookers enjoying the hilarity of this couple's cuteness.  We'd both finished our returns and were just standing to the side of the desks, talking like we were best friends.

"Sweetie," she told me, "we hear about all these kids who just quit on their marriages, and we just can't understand that.  We've been married 55 years now, and we had some rough times, but I love him.  And more importantly, I like him."

His arm was around her and drew her a little closer and beamed, "She's my gal.  I wouldn't have it any other way."

We talked longer (of course), but when they left the store they were holding hands, happy to show the world (OK, me, two clerks, and half a dozen other strangers) that they were happy.  That after 55 years it's possible that you can not just still love someone, but like them, too.