I pop into the grocery store on a recent Saturday afternoon, feeling sorta giddy-grateful, and as I’m happily standing in line my eyes meet up with an elderly man (think 80’s), finely dressed, and ready to converse. Well, with some folks, if either one of you utters even one “blessed” or “amen” within the first exchange (even if it’s just weather-related), and the other responds in kind, you’ve found a brother. Such was the case with this gentlemen. In the span of probably less than two minutes, I went from complete stranger to receiving an open invitation to his church, his phone number, home address, and instructions on how to find him on myspace (whatever the hell that is). So I lazily take my time to look at the back of the receipt on which he virtually insisted scribbling all this personal stuff, until now. So I Google the guy, and he’s none other than Berry Harris, of Oklahoma Blues Hall of Fame. Cool. Berry, I’m gonna make it to your church, man. And thank you for engaging me. It was how all strangers should meet.
Posted on: Wed, 15 Oct 2014 04:22:53 +0000
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