Just as he was about to walk past me he turned his head in my direction, and almost as a reflex, touched the brim of his railroad cap with his crooked index finger and thumb. He raised the brim the slightest fraction of an inch and his head dipped an even less discernible amount. He smiled one of those genuine, corner-of-the-eye crinkling, kind of smiles. It was infectious, because I found myself smiling back. And then, he stopped short, not that he'd been moving at any great speed. He'd had a wooden toothpick he'd been chewing on in the corner of his mouth, which he now removed. His smile became a grin that revealed a small gap between his upper front teeth. Orthodontists now correct such dental "imperfections" but, I've always found it to be an attractive feature.
"You from 'round these parts?" he asked from where he stood, a comfortable distance away.
"No," I replied, "I'm just passing through. I'm from the North."
He nodded and asked for no more explanation than that, as if everything above the Mason-Dixon Line were all one giant conglomeration. He didn't move on, just stood there, kind of rocking back and forth ever so slightly on his heels.
"How about you? Are you from "these parts?" I asked borrowing his vernacular.
"Yep," a nod went along with the continued gentle rocking. I don' t know why but it reminded me a the way a cow will eye you from the field all the while slowly chewing her cud. I could almost sense him slowly digesting my words.
"Have you lived here your whole life?"
His rocking stopped and he looked up and off over the nearby busy intersection as he pondered my
question. His eyes took on a faraway look. "Yep, pretty much my whole life I been livin' round here." The smile had faded and I wondered where his thoughts had taken him. Was he recalling time he'd spent in the armed forces in Korea? Could he have actually been a railroad engineer, who'd traversed this country for weeks at a time? Had he spent collective years toiling deep in the not too distant coal mines? Or was he merely nostalgic for his boyhood days before tourism, development and progress stripped some of the natural beauty of this once pristine area? He remained immobile, yet something was ruminating inside of him.
"Well, it's a beautiful part of the country," I told him.
His eyes twinkled and his beatific smile returned. His head slowly turned again to my direction as he nodded. With a chest-puffing pride usually seen in a parent talking about their talented child he said, "Yep, she shore is!"
I'd been standing in front of a store waiting for my husband, who just then strode out of the door and caught my attention. I turned to my new acquaintance and said, "I have to go, but it's been nice talking to you." He touched the brim of his hat, smiled and turned away to continue his walk.
"Chatting up the locals?" my husband asked with a raised brow, as he glanced sideways at me smiling with amusement. We headed toward the car. He paused as he opened the car door, "Wait? Did I just see him tip his hat at you? Hmmm, you don't see that much any more, do you?"
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