The face behind the story

A funny thing happened today. I went to the Saratoga YMCA for a swim, and as I was in the locker room, I saw one of the staffers with whom I often chat. She asked me how I was doing and I told her that I was going to be traveling for the next twenty-four days, on a schedule where I would be gone for several days, back for one day and then gone again. I laughed and said that I had planned all of my swim workouts around the days that I would be in Saratoga.

As we spoke, a pleasant faced woman approached me. She asked me if I was training for a triathlon, and said she had seen me running the other day. I didn't think that I knew her, but she seemed nice enough so we started talking about triathlons.

She mentioned that a biathlon that she likes to do each year wasn't going to take place this year, and I said, "Oh, is that the one in August at Lake Desolation?"

She said, "Yeah, that one."

I said, "My neighbor does it, and was telling me about it. Her name is Kathy."

The pleasant woman laughed. "That's me. I'm your neighbor. I'm Kathy."

I was completely embarrassed and a bit surprised. In the world that I live, I interact sometimes with several dozen people a day, usually in specific contexts: work, professional and/or academic gatherings, the farmers markets, the Y, my neighborhood, and so forth. Often, I know people on the basis of the stories they tell me about their lives and their interests. I recognize their faces by putting those faces in particular places. It helps particularly when I'm in large gatherings to see name badges. Those badges -- annoying, perhaps -- are useful for matching faces, names, and places that helps me keep some of the different worlds with which I interact apart.

But what was odd with Kathy is that I associate her with not only my neighborhood but also with sports and with homesteading. Like me and my husband Jim, she and her husband Rich raise chickens and grow vegetables. Kathy in fact has gone a few steps further even by making her own soap and collecting honey from her own bees. The fact that she does these things and runs and swims regularly while also working full time and raising children infuses me with the sort of "I can do it, too," inspiration that energizes me day-in and day-out. The fact that I knew that she did the biathlon speaks to the fact that I did know her on the basis of part of her story. But to allude to my neighbor Kathy while actually speaking to Kathy left me shaking my head in puzzlement.

We chatted for a few more minutes, and as we parted, I apologized for not recognizing her.

She said, "It's okay. Your world is so different. It's not easy doing what you do. I work with kids and so when I see an adult, I know them right away. You're around adults all the time so when you see one you know, they're just another person."

"Actually," I replied with a laugh. "I am on the Internet all the time. It's when I actually I see people that I blank out. As long as they have name tags, or I see them on Facebook, I'm good."