The Man in the Waiting Room

I always feel awkward knitting in public. I don't know why. Maybe I'm just an awkward person in general, but it's only been recently that I've started to feel more comfortable knitting in places where homeschoolers aren't abundant. 

Grandmas and older women tend to rush over as soon as I pull out the yarn and ask what I'm making, who it's for, etc. I don't mind this, I just feel obligated to continue the small talk after telling them what I'm making. As I said in the last post, I'm not very good at small talk. Sit me down and have a discussion about deep life issues, that's great, but I'm not talented in the area of talking to pass the time.

Yesterday, I was in a waiting room and an older man sporting a 'WWII Vets' cap was quietly sitting next to two older ladies who were happily babbling. I could see right away that he was quiet.

A few people came in and out over the next half hour, and I never heard him say a word. Finally, it was just him, Grace, and me.

"What are you making?"

"A scarf."

"I'm a crocheter. I tried knitting. I made a pair of mittens and socks (which, in case you've never tried knitting is no small feat -geddit? 'cause feet and socks? never mind...) but I never really got into it."

"Yeah, I just like knitting better."

"I make afghans and donate them. Since 1960 I've made over 300 blankets for elderly people and I never sold a one. You see, their hands get weaker and deformed, so they give me all their old yarn and I make blankets for them."

"Wow, that's really great!"

"Next time I come here, I'll have to bring my crochet. See, in my spare time I bring people who can't drive anymore to their appointments for them."

I didn't know what to say. I didn't know how to express how awesome I thought this quiet, old man was. I said something about how that was really nice and then kept knitting. One or two more people came and went and I was still busy thinking of something to say when either he or I had to leave. Every once in a while I'd look up and smile, but when the nurse opened up the door and pushed an old lady in a wheelchair out, I didn't know what to say. I called out for him to have a Merry Christmas, but I don't think he heard.

I love finding out about people like that. The quiet people who don't do anything for glory. Who don't get recognized for the amazing things that they do and the incredible sacrifices they make.

I've been thinking a lot about that man and all the unsung heroes not only in my town but in the world. Everyone gets caught up in the stories of shootings and war. Turning on the TV (or computer) results in depressing stories that, even though it's cliche, take away my faith in humanity. But people like that restore that faith. Even if it's a little thing like a Wal-Mart greeter who has a genuine smile and 'Hello', or a random compliment from a stranger. Little things are important.

So thank you, man in the waiting room. I never asked your name, but I'm glad for the little bit of small talk we had. And thank you to anyone who has ever tried to make anyone's day a little better. 

You rock.