Monday, 7/12/10 - Hello, Joe

"Startled me when you talked. No one ever does. They rarely even say hello."

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"This is beautiful." She was right next to me, holding my hand, but her words came from somewhere far away. "I could live here," she said.

There it was: the hook.

Carol was baiting me, fishing for a "let's live together" line.

I am not ready.

"Get ready," I said. When she stopped walking I realized that to her my comment must have sounded like I was about to make that suggestion. "Look," I pointed down the path with my chin, "see the older man walking our way? Watch him."

We stared walking again.

"What about him?" she asked.

"He will say hello."

"So?"

"To everyone. I see him out here every night and he says hello to everyone. And it is not just "'Hi' or 'Howdy' or 'Hey', it is always 'Hello'."



The trail was busy tonight. Cooler weather in the spring and fall lured everyone outside. Young and old, walkers, runners, cyclists, skateboarders, roller skaters and roller bladers whizzed, walked or wobbled along this pathway from sun up until sun down.

It had once been part of the CSX railroad. When roads replaced rails the state reclaimed the old railbeds and built an extensive system of exercise trails that conveniently ran through the heart of many cities then out into the surrounding countrysides. The tracks, at one time a lonely home to stray dogs and toothless men, were now smoothly paved pathways dotted with water fountains and restrooms.

An early evening breeze gently moved the leaves on the moss covered live oak that overhung this part of the path. Sunlight cast glimmers on the pavement making it look like a flowing stream. And floating down that pathway toward us was 'Hello, Joe'.

I don't know his real name, I just dubbed him 'Hello, Joe' because of the way he said hello to everyone.

True to the name I had given him he dropped his chin and said, "Hello" as walkers passed by him. Bikers got a short, three fingered wave as the pedaled by. He gave a single, open handed wave to skaters and bladers. The old and young received a full wave, back and forth. Regardless of what his hands did, 'Hello, Joe' always mouthed the word "hello". I doubt that many heard the word but anyone looking at him would surely recognize it.

"See what I mean?" I asked after several people had passed him.

She watched him waving and saying hello. "What's his name?"

"I don't know."

"You say hello to him every night and you don't know his name?"

I had met Carol online several months ago. Her profile stated that she was 'very shy' but she was the one who made first contact and initiated our meeting. She was coming down to help her aunt recuperate from hip replacement surgery and, at the time, thought she would be down for six weeks. Things hadn't gone well with her aunt. That was in March, seven - wow! - seven moths ago.

We have a good relationship and, as far as I know, neither of us is looking elsewhere. Because of her aunts condition, we had rarely spent evenings together and almost never spend nights together. Our visits were normally during the daytime but now that her aunt is improving we are spending more time together.

I knew Carol well enough to know that her shyness was an incorrect self perception and that before 'Hello, Joe' passed us, we would know his real name.



"Hello," he said as he approached us.

My response was lost under Carol's hearty, "Good evening. How are you tonight?"

'Hello, Joe' hesitated and for a moment seemed unsure of what to say next. "Fine, fine," he managed. "And how are you tonight?"

An entire conversation flowed out from under Carol's original question. Somehow, our southward direction had been reversed and we were now walking northward; the same direction that 'Hello, Joe' had been heading when we met.

At first it was just a few pleasant statements: nice night, great weather, lucky to have this trail, but Carol expertly inserted questions in a way that seemed natural and unassuming.

"My name is Joe," he offered when Carol shared our names, "Joe Healey."

It was funny to me that I had been calling him 'Hello, Joe' for all of this time and it turns out his name really is Joe. I had a private laugh while the two of them chattered on.

Joe liked this trail, used it every day. He could walk south to the lake at Thomas Park, north to the lake at Eagle Lake Park or west to the beach. He had moved down from NY three years ago after his wife died. His house was comfortable, the area provided for all of his needs and at his age he didn't consider that life could be any better.

I only half listened while they talked about New York, places they had in common and the things they missed about the city. I had been to NY only once on a business trip and I can't say that I liked it very much. It was too busy, too loud, too dirty.

While they talked I watched people passing.

We stopped walking and Joe indicated that this was where he exited the trail. We said goodbye and, in her enthusiastic way, Carol added that she was glad that we had met.

"Startled me when you talked. No one ever does. They rarely even say hello." We watched as Joe turned away before we headed back south.

We walked along enjoying the quiet. I thought about Carol, her dedication to her aunt and how well we got along. Maybe living together wouldn't be such a bad idea.

"Did you notice?" I asked.

"Notice what?"

"Joe."

"What about him?"

"The whole time we were with him he didn't say hello to anyone."