CAN I REACH SOMETHING FOR YOU?

I was in the grocery store today, contemplating the jars of marinated artichokes on the top shelf, and trying to decide what size I need for a future pasta salad when I heard a voice ask, "Can I reach something for you?" I looked to my left and there stood an older gentleman with twinkly eyes and a friendly smile.

I have no problem asking for help reaching something on a top shelf and have often solicited the assistance of other shoppers when I can't reach an item. However, this wasn't necessarily one of those situations. I was staring up at the artichokes because I was simply having the inane thought, "Do I want the small jar or should I just get the bigger one?" Obviously my perplexed facial expression was interpreted by this gentleman as a bigger dilemma, given my small stature. My immediate inclination was to assure him by saying, "Oh, thank you. But, no. I can reach it." Which I'm pretty sure I could have done without toppling over the entire shelf. (Incidentally, this exact thing did indeed happen in a store at the mall once that basically resulted in the destruction of the entire store, which felt like it happened in slow motion, but that's a blog post for another time. . .) Nevertheless, something stopped me from saying those words and I realized this was an opportunity for making a connection. This kind gentleman, a complete stranger, was offering his help to someone he perceived was in need, and I decided the possible social connection was more important than my assertion of self-reliance. And although I consider myself a staunch feminist, I never bristle when someone opens a door for me. I love that! I often do the same for others as well. It's just good manners. So, I said, "Yes, please! That would be great. Thank you!" Because here's the thing - all anyone of us ever wants is to be seen and to feel like we matter. His smile immediately grew wider, he handed me the artichokes, we exchanged a few more words, and then went our separate ways.

I think this desire to be seen is especially crucial as we age because I have often heard that older people feel invisible and undervalued. I also think that our obsession with our damn phones is making all kinds of connection more difficult. It's like the lyrics to Alicia Keys' song Underdog that say:

One conversation, a single moment

The things that change us if we notice

When we look up sometimes