There are two kinds of people ...

As the joke goes, there are two kinds of people: those who divide up the world into two kinds of people, and those who don't.

Well, I have a number of ways to divide up people into either of two buckets. Here's my first pairing:

Those who want to engage people they interact with on a person-to-person human basis, and ... those who don't.

In the first category, I remember a clerk at a lunch spot who just made my day: I was juggling several purchases (sandwich, fruitcup) along with my briefcase, and she suggested I park my purchases at her register while I got my drink. It was such a small thing! She was just so sunny and good-natured. I couldn't help smiling about it, and I made it a point to compliment her to her manager.

Related to this one are people who look for opportunities to do more, to go a little further, to help someone a little bit more, to make something better, and ... those who want to do the job, and only that. They do the least they have to, and that with a minimum of grace.

You know your own reactions to people in the latter categories.

Getting out of ruts

It's good to take advantage of opportunities for something new every now and then.

I had occasion the other day to visit an area of the city I don't know well. The city is Washington, DC, and there are huge hunks of it I've either never visited or visited only briefly.

I had to take care of an administrative task in connection with my volunteer work with the National Park Service. Since this task could be done at any number of sites around Washington, I looked for a site near Metro (parking is a bear in downtown DC) and away from my usual haunts. I chose a federal government agency near Union Station solely on the basis of those two criteria.

It was odd how merely going around Union Station to the east side instead of the west took me to an area I had never been before. Just a small change. Yeah, OK, it's an area full of office buildings. Big deal. But ...

The added bonus was the agency building -- innovative architecture with an interesting curved window wall. The individual chunks of glass appeared to be suspended on cables. Great return on a small change from the familiar.

So, use a different bank branch, grocery store, restaurant. Read a different kind of book. It doesn't have to be a huge departure from the usual. And open your mind to something new.

Boomerang kid

We've got a boomerang kid, and his cat, at home these days. It's been interesting to reconnect with my stepson on a more adult level. Even when he was in college, my relationship with my stepson was definitely parent/child -- OK, parent/almost-grown-up-child, but still.

Airplane jitters and earbuds

I was flying to Maine Sunday. The plane was full, as they so often are these days. A young man had the middle seat -- he appeared to be of college age. We're doing all the usual stuff: finding our seatbelts, getting stuff pushed all the way under the seat, and so on. I start to notice this guy could NOT sit still. He joggled his knees, drummed his fingers on his thighs, shifted in the seat. Nervous flyer? Needing a smoke (of one sort or another)? I'm working the crosswords and sudokus in the airline magazine, then pull out my novel. This guy jitters on.

Well, we take off and climb away from the airport. The captain turns off the seat-belt sign. My neighbor whips out a smart-phone thing and can barely get the ear buds in fast enough. Right away he goes still.

I couldn't help but wonder if we are becoming unable to entertain ourselves. We need constant passive input. (Or not-so-passive input -- we've all seen a pedestrian step off the curb, oblivious to traffic, cellphone hand to ear.) But it's the need for constant music/podcasts/whatever, in every situation: while jogging or biking, when it can be very dangerous on city streets or deserted ones for that matter; driving, when distraction can cause bad things happen fast, and to lots of people; in the supermarket; sunbathing.

I hear birds, the wind in trees, children laughing. I people-watch and have casual conversations with some of them or exchange ordinary courtesies. I read, and the batteries never go dead on my paperback, although they might on the light.

Oh, well, at least I didn't have to listen to his music, or that tinny buzz when it leaks out of headphones.