My sister asks everyone’s name - the waiter, the uber driver, the person in line beside her waiting to order coffee. It’s never forced. It’s never nosy. It’s just what she does. Because she cares about people. And it shows.
And I’ll let you in on a little secret: I delight in eavesdropping on these conversations. I’m quite shameless. I’ll sit a little closer in a restaurant pretending to read the menu or tap my phone as if busy in an Uber just to hear her ask the driver’s name and how his day is going. I’ve recently seen her discuss motherhood with a stranger in an airport terminal, talk a TSA agent into cracking a smile, and learn more about the woman sitting next to her on a plane than I’ve learned about some of my coworkers in years.
You may know someone like her - if you’re lucky. People open up to her in ways that surprise even themselves. It is remarkable to watch. On a recent sister’s trip (a delight that I will no doubt write more about later), an Uber driver who labored to speak broken English told her of the daughter he is putting through school. He showed her pictures and the two of them talked and talked like old friends who hadn’t seen each other in years. I can’t tell you his name, but I bet she could.
Everyone leaves a conversation with her lighter. Seen. Remembered.
And maybe that’s the whole secret. Maybe that's how she does it. She sees people, and she likes them. She genuinely likes them. And when someone likes you like that, it feels like sunshine. It makes you comfortable.
So here’s to Judy - the woman everyone loves, not because she asks for attention, but because she gives it. So freely. And here’s to the quiet delight of witnessing her magic. One conversation at a time.
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