This story reminded me of my own.

If the weather is good, I go to the Chicago Botanic Gardens at least once a week, usually on a Wednesday after work. It’s open until eight in the summer, and I get there just after five, so I have almost three hours to myself in the beautiful gardens.

One day, I’m debating where to go, and I’m heading through the entryway, when I’m stopped by a middle-aged woman with a walker.

Woman: “Excuse me, can you help me? I’m trying to find the Sensory Gardens.”

Me: “Sure thing! I was just heading in that direction myself.”

Woman: “Oh, no need, just point me in the right direction, I’ll get there. Eventually.”

She waves at the walker and tells me some of her muscular and neurological issues. A little TMI, but having had a stroke at a very young age (and having family with issues much like hers), I feel responsible to help.

Me: “Nonsense. I’ll walk with you.”

At one point, we’re trudging, and she says her hands are going numb, which leads to her arms going numb, which leads to her legs going numb.

Me: “How can I help? What can I do?”

Woman: “Is there a bench nearby? If I rest for a few minutes, I’ll be fine.”

Me: “Certainly! Let me see… There are a few benches a little up that hill. Do you want me to bring one down for you?”

Woman: “Oh, yes.”

Me: “You got it!”

Woman: “No! I was kidding! You don’t have to drag it down here! Please. How DARE you make my life easier!”

Me: “Hey, I try! You okay if I run off to the Train Exhibit for a minute? I just want to take a look. I’ll bring back photos!”

We then spend the next three hours together. She’s in her mid-60s, I’m in my late 30s, but we have so much in common anyway that it’s hard to speak with our laughter.

She does go very slowly, and she apologizes almost every two minutes. I tell her to stop apologizing and to look at those trees! Look at these flowers! Do you want to get a photo over there? How about by this wall?

We end up in the Sensory Garden (eventually), but we’ve made friends, we’ve taken pictures, I’ve shared my life with her, and she has shared her life with me. At the end, we hug, and we promise to go again next week.

That was the last time I saw her at the Gardens – because the Wednesdays we’ve planned have been so blasted bad! We’ve been getting dinner instead. Last night we had ramen, and I introduced her to croquettes!

Some friends are playing a quickfire name game. The category is firsts and seconds:

Me: “First president?”

Friend: “George Washington!”

Me: “Second president?”

Friend: “Oh… uhm… Alexander Hamilton?”

Me: “No. John Adams.”

Friend: “Ugh, who knows stuff like that?”

Me: “First man on the moon.” 

Friend: “Christopher Columbus!”

Me: “…” 

Friend: “What?” 

Me: “The moon.”

Friend: “Yeah?”

Me: “You think Christopher Columbus landed on the moon?”

Friend: “Yeah!”

Me: “No, it’s Neil Armstrong.”

Friend: “Whoever that is.”

Me: “I guess there’s no point in asking this, but… second man on the moon?”

Friend: *Blank look.*

Me: “Buzz Aldrin.”

Friend: “See, now I know you’re yanking my chain because that’s the spaceman from Toy Story!”

As all my other friends are laughing:

Me: “I don’t want to play anymore…”

This story reminds me of the time I overheard a conversation between my mother and a new acquaintance. The other lady was trying to impress my mother with how clever her children were:

Acquaintance: “When I leave them at home, I have to tell them not to go out the front door, the back door, the windows, the garage door, the coal chute, ALL the openings! If I don’t, they’ll find a way to get out!”

My mother replied:

Mom: “I just tell mine, ‘Stay in the house’.”

Some friends and I are relaxing in the back garden during a hot summer afternoon. I can’t remember what started this conversation, but it led me to say:

Me: “It’s the best thing since sliced bread.”

Friend: “Ugh. I hate that expression. It makes no sense.”

Me: “Best thing since sliced bread? Why?”

Friend: “I refuse to believe that the invention of bread predates knives.”

Other Friend: “What are you on about?”

Friend: “The expression implies that when bread was invented, there existed no means to slice it. So early man was just, what, walking around with giant bricks of bread all the time biting into it like a block of cheese?”

Me: “Well, I think I learned this in the British Museum, but the earliest bread was unleavened flatbread, so it was more like a wrap than a traditional loaf.”

Other Friend: “Also, I remember looking at bread found in Egyptian ruins, and they were like rolls, or something. The kind of thing you’d rip open and dip into a nice hummus or taramasalata.”

Friend: “Oh… well, I still hate the expression.”

Me: “Also… what are you doing biting into blocks of cheese?”

Friend: “…Anyway, what were you saying?”

We all laughed and moved on.

BTW, this is just a basic recollection of the conversation that happened. It’s not trying to be a history lesson, so if we got the history of bread wildly wrong, remember that if you come at me in the comments.

My friend is in her early forties and completely on her own for the first time in her life. I have been largely self-reliant since my early twenties, so while I acknowledge that we have very different life experiences, the things she doesn’t know are just mind-blowing.

We had a few conversations like… why her car needs oil, why birds poop on your porch after you install a bird feeder, and the most shocking topic, her electric bill.

Friend: “This electric company wants to charge me $400!”

Me: “What were you paying before?” *When she was married.*

Friend: “I don’t think we paid for power.”

Me: *After a second of mental blue-screening.* “You definitely paid for power.”

Friend: “This is ridiculous. I never had this problem at [Ex]’s house. This must be their mistake.”

Me: “I don’t think that’s correct.”

She “agrees to disagree”, which worries me. The next month, we have a similar conversation.

Friend: “Now these a**holes want $700!”

Me: “Did you pay your first bill?”

Friend: “I am not paying for a service that I didn’t agree to use.”

Me: *I try a different tactic while being as gentle as possible.* “[Company] believes they have a contract with your house. They will continue to charge you until you tell them that you do not want their service.”

Friend: “I can’t afford a $700 electric bill!”

Me: “Call the company and ask them for budget billing or something.”

Friend: *Whining.* “But this wasn’t a problem when I was with [Ex]!”

Me: “Unless you’re planning on getting back together, you need to handle it yourself. I can come over and walk you through the bill and help with the call, but your power will be shut off if you continue to avoid paying.”

That went over like a lead balloon. She cussed me out, saying I was wrong about the bill, wrong to say she should get back with her ex (I didn’t), and that if I didn’t back her up, then we just shouldn’t be friends.

I decided it was time to take some space and stopped reaching out. We were still connected on social media, so I saw her complaining about the electric company, and later, other utility suppliers trying to defraud her. Other people told her the same thing I did, but she replied the same way as before.

Eventually, she made a post asking if anyone had ideas on how to get her electricity turned back on without paying “fake bills”. She deactivated her social media after everyone told her that the bills were real and she had to pay them. I don’t know what she is up to now, but I hope she figured it out.