I had forgotten how invigorating it is to walk or hike or cc ski out in cold weather when you are dressed warmly enough.
Today’s walk was the best I can recall for a long time. (2936 steps) The cold air felt wonderful, and I had a hat, so my ears weren't freezing.
About the hat. I had been looking online, but was too cheap to pay online prices. And was afraid I'd get one that pinched my head. (The Smith head, right?)So, yesterday, I came into the lobby after my walk, hatless, and a friend, Nettie, admonished me. She had on a
hat like this. I said I need to get me one like that. She pulled it off and handed it to me. There was the usual back and forth, “Oh I can’t take your hat.” “I have more upstairs.” “No, no, no.” “Yes, yes, yes.” etc. A couple of women, sitting next to her, chimed in, “She has more. Take it. You can wear it when you walk.”
So I wore it today and it was wonderful. I was filled with happiness—because she gave me the hat off her head. Because I was able to accept it with joy. Because the cold felt so good. The walk felt so good. I waved at 3 people. And spoke to two.
One of the workers here, Joe, is a guy who was on the streets and was rescued with some program that dried him out, helped him recover, and, eventually, got him a job and an apartment here.
Joe wanted to tell me he had a girlfriend now. She is from down home, which turns out to be Southern Indiana. He was proud and happy. She may move here with him later. Joe has only one eye and has had numerous surgeries on the other. He, and we, have waited, hoped, rejoiced with him as he finally was able to see. Community living at its best.
There are a bunch of programs like that, I have discovered, because a lot of the residents here are helped by one or another of them.
Later I chatted with Paul. Paul was waiting for our bus to go to Walmart. He had already walked around twice. His contention is that “There are no cooties outside. The cold kills them.” Paul is not a conversationalist. He monologues. I don’t think he knows how to interact with people. He has complained to me that he has no friends. I suggest that he needs to listen to people. Ask about them. Show interest. He just doesn’t get it.
I walked all over the first floor, hoping to see Nettie, so I could tell her how great the hat was and what a difference it made in my walk. No luck, but I’ll see her sometime later today.
Nettie is a very small, gnarly, black woman who, when I first saw her, didn’t talk to white people. She hung with a bunch of her (Black) peers.
I spoke, always. I say hey to everyone. Eventually, after having had my 'hey' ignored a few times, I got in her face–literally, and she spoke to me. I was all, mentally, dammit, I'm a nice person, you would like me, and we are going to be friends. After that, step by step, she got used to me. The day she spoke first, waved at me, I was chuffed. Now we sit and talk sometimes.
Anyway, that handing me the hat off her head, spontaneously, generously, lovingly, made my day yesterday, and today. And I will think of Nettie in a good way every time I wear it. A real need, satisfied in a totally unexpected way.
Nettie goes for dialysis 3 times a week, has no family, is on a couple of those programs, and speaks almost unintelligible (to me) Black English. In the beginning, I couldn’t understand most of what she said. Either she has adjusted her speech or my ears have adjusted, but now I understand, and if I don’t, I say 'huh?' It works
I watched this yesterday, and was introduced to some new thinking. Especially after 48:00.https://rickhanson.com/being-well-podcast-how-to-become-a-new-person/
I could go on, but enough for today. Be well.
PS: I have gloves coming tomorrow, and, one of these days, I may even buy a neck scarf for when it gets really cold.
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