I went to church to attend a meeting. The meeting didn’t pertain to church, it was just held there. I was nervous, wasn’t something I would typically go to. It was just a couple of old guys and a younger woman who was a little disheveled, shirt half tucked in, a bit of a bowl haircut and corduroy pants that were too short. The guys didn’t looked very intimidating, so I did a mental shrug and decided I would give it a go.
It was a nice little group. They were all very welcoming, but one of those guys happen to more welcoming than the rest of the group. It was really nothing more than saying “hello” with a dollop of enthusiasm as he introduced himself. His name was Bob, the other man’s name was Harald and woman’s name was Cindy.
I sat at the meeting, listening mostly. Not an active participant as I wasn’t sure of my place. I was a newbie so I figured that’s pretty typical for most people.
The important thing was at the end of the meeting, he asked if people wanted to come over for a cup of coffee or tea. I looked around and no one else took the invitation so I said, “I can come.” It was sort of sheepish. I had to be forty years younger than him. But he had something I wanted, some genuine low-key niceness. Somehow, it was backed up with charisma. I don’t really understand charisma, but I know it when I see it.
I suppose his charisma wasn’t important. That warmth was attractive, it felt like an open door for anyone who was willing to walk through.
So I went. I sat at his dinner table. There was a scatter of papers at the far end of the table but enough room for the two of us. He offered tea or coffee. I accepted the tea. The cups he served the tea in were plain, simple white and no patterns. The rest of his house was the same as that cup. Simple, smatterings of paper scattered on his tables. And it was stuck in a previous generation, I’d say probably the 1960’s.
The conversation didn’t move much. He didn’t ask much for questions. Maybe it was from the large age gap. I was going to have be the one who asked the questions, pushed the conversation in one direction or another.
But it was still a pleasant exchange. He talked about the people across the street. “They live in Florida in winter and another set of neighbors” He pointed in the opposite direction “store their vehicle in my garage.”
“Oh really, what kind of car.” He rubbed his forehead for a second. “It’s a BMW.”
I nodded my head, acknowledging what he said.
After a little more than an hour I let him know I needed to get home. Right as I walked out the door I said in a curious voice. “See you again next week?”
“If all goes well.” He said.
