Friendship

I have a refrigerator magnet that says:  “Friendship is when people know all about you but like you anyway.”  I think I’m never reticent about sharing information about myself, my family, my dogs – anything.  I’m not very good at keeping things to myself.  So, of course, people will know all about me, but I’m never sure if they like me, anyway.

I think – I’m hoping – that I have a new friend.  My garbage man.  When was the last time your garbage man became your friend?  Or the person who mows your lawn, or cleans your house, or shovels your walk.  Do we share information about ourselves with these helper people with whom we may establish a friendship?  Do we work to have them become our friends?  And, it does take work.

Before Isaac became the lead man on the trash truck used to pick up my trash, two other men were in charge of the pick up.  Even though I have the large barrel with wheels and I can get the barrel to the curb, it is a pain in the neck to remember to get it back again.  During the summer, it becomes twice the work with two barrels.  My previous trash men, unasked, began returning my barrels to their proper place after emptying them into the trash truck.  I considered that act of kindness to be very helpful.  And, so, I began giving them a tip, each month.  They were brothers, and we got to a first name basis.

Then, suddenly, they were gone.  One of the brothers became very ill; I have no idea what happened to the second brother.  And, then, Isaac and his helper arrived.  Again, without being asked, they followed the same procedure of returning my barrels to their proper place on the driveway.  And, I kept up the habit of a once-a-month tip for each worker.  Yes, it is true.  I think I treat them very well.  But, they are here once every week.  Rain.  Shine.  Heat.  Snow.  Ice.  They are here.  Their job is really dirty.  Filthy, in fact.  Probably dangerous, if we know everything about the job.  And, yet, here they are, week after week, doing their job.

Each month, I tape a sign to the barrel that says, “Please ring the doorbell.”  When Isaac rings the bell, I give him the envelopes with the grocery store cards; Isaac always tells me. “Thank you,” and blesses me.  A good feeling.

For three weeks, Isaac wasn’t on the truck.  I asked the person who seemed to be taking his place about his whereabouts and was told that he was assigned to another route.  I was not happy.  And, then, like a miracle, he was back.

I talked with him;  I told him how I had been missing him and how concerned I was when I didn’t see him.  It turns out that he was in Ghana!  On vacation.  Believe me – I told him how glad I was to see him.  Once again, my barrels are returned to their proper place.  I didn’t ask, but I figure that Ghana must be Isaac’s birth country.  In Africa, Ghana is bordered on three sides by Burkina Faso, Côte d’lvoire, and Togo.  The southern border is the Gulf of Guinea.  In our next conversation, I will ask if I’m “figuring” right – that Ghana is his birth country.  And, I need to learn more about Ghana.  Friends do that – learn about each other’s history.

When friends travel anywhere, I ask them to bring me a rock, just two inches of rock – any rock – from wherever they’ve been.  So, even though I had not known that Isaac was leaving the country, I asked him if he’d brought me a rock.  “No,” he said.  “I have a present for you.  You have to wait to see it.”

The present is a beautiful shirt.  It has those colors that simply “jump off the wall.”  I’ll be pleased to wear it.

I am so pleased to have established a friendship with Isaac.  I hope it can continue!

Be Safe and Be Well

The Cranky Crone

Thoughtful comments are appreciated.