Strange Days Indeed

As I was crossing the street in front of my condo tonight, a car skidded to a stop in front of me. The window rolled down, and a dark-haired guy poked his head out. I realized it was the proprietor of the plumbing-supply store down the block. What the hell, I thought.

"I want to thank you," he said. "I want to say thanks for all you've done."

I had no idea what he was talking about. This was someone I'd exchanged a few pleasantries with over the last few years -- not much more than "hi-how-ya-doin" when we passed on the street -- and I didn't even consider him an acquaintance.

I forced a smile. "Oh. OK. You're welcome," I said.

"I just wanted to say thanks," he said, then sped off. I was mystified.

Later, I found out that my wife had left him some muffins she'd baked, along with a note, because he'd cleared the snow in front of our building with his snowblower during the last blizzard. He'd also had a death in the family recently, according to a sign in the window when his store was closed for a few days last week.

Just one of those strange moments of connection that come at unexpected times.