People Talk

People talk. Many of the old folks in my mother’s Old Folks’ Home like to gossip. Wait! Don’t click away yet, I’m going somewhere with this.

People talk. You’ve seen big, brutish muscle guys like the ones at my hardcore gym. They’re kicking sand in the Charles Atlas ads and keeping overdressed kids out of nightclubs. Well, it turns out big sweaty guys gossip just as much as arthritic old ladies.

I bet you didn’t see that coming, did you? “Strong and silent” my ass. Muscle-y and chatty is more like it. Most of them are very nice. They natter together in a way that reminds me of the senior citizens in my mother’s building.

Surprise! People really are just people, and they talk. But not only people who see each other every day. Complete strangers talk, too.

I had to call the phone company yesterday for a friend. The call took about ten minutes once I got to a live person. She was very nice, the live person. She told me all about how she had her first child when she was 16, she married the father and they both managed to complete their educations while raising the child. She (the operator, not the child) now has a Master’s in some kind of counseling, I forget what. She had her second child in her 20s. I don’t know how long ago that was, nor why she’s still working for the phone company if she’s a trained counselor.

For my portion of the conversation, I volunteered my friend’s telephone number and address and a few murmured courtesies. I keep to myself in the gym and unless I’m trapped in an elevator, rarely say more than hello to anyone at my mother’s.

People may talk, but I can’t keep up with them.