Making those little human connections
I was about 42 minutes out from Lexington when my car broke down on U.S. 27 just outside of Cynthiana while I was on my way to the Outlook.
But before that, I was enjoying the high that comes with speeding down the highway with the volume up and the windows down, moving with the curves of the land, and weaving in and out of the morning sun’s forgiving rays.
The changing views of rolling hills in gold light followed by the trees’ purplish shadows under a clear blue sky reminded me of a conversation I had with Vanessa, an editor from the Bracken County News: Around here is the closest thing to heaven, she had said.
This part of the country has a beauty that burrows its way into your soul. And on the job, I meet people who carry it with them and reflect it through their lives.
But everyone knows that we’re never lucky enough to avoid nasty attitudes and mean encounters entirely, which oftentimes overwhelm positive ones.
In fact, an underrated “mind killer” isn’t the in-your-face occurrences, but when you meet someone who has stopped believing in their own choices and in others.
It can be pretty convincing, even true, and can fill you with a sense of hopelessness.
This is why I have come to appreciate the little human connections we make every day more and more (so much so that I’m making a career out of it!).
That day, when I was stranded on the highway and no mechanic shop could take me in, I was grateful for the firm and confident voice on the other end of my phone helping me to find a place I could tow my car to, and who was incredulous on my behalf when his contacts could not help me.
I was thankful that the tow truck driver stayed with me for hours (I told him he could leave) while I tried to figure everything out even though I wasted his time (and money from other jobs he could have taken) because of my lack of foresight.
He told me, “You seem to already be having a bad day, I didn’t want to make it worse.”
On the ride back to Lexington in the tow truck, between conversation and comfortable silence, it struck me that these were two connections I would never have made if not for the very unfortunate car breakdown. And had either of us acted any differently the moment we met, there would have been no connection at all — just pure business.
But it happened and I’m happy it did.
I am reminded that in an age of suspicion, alienation, and loss, how we choose to interact with and treat each other still matters.
And at the very least, these little human connections matter to a lot of people here — that’s why there are so many stories to write this summer!
If there is a story you would like me to cover, contact me through the office number 859-654-3332.