My father, my son

One of the things I frequently say about my son is that he has never met a stranger. He, like most kids, just shines when he's around new people. Peakapoo, waving, smiling, raspberries blown to stewardesses or Singapore security.

Like his curly hair, tendancies to pick up colds and inability to stand still in airports, I wonder how much of this is from me. And yet I see it even more so in my father.

Dad will talk to anybody. I learned about how to catch crawdads in the Current river because of overhearing him talk to...anyone. It's a very Donald Miller sort of thing. Why thinkwe can only learn from books or in classrooms? It used to bother me but I've learned that the worst people will do is pretend to read or ignore you. I wonder what Dad learned in his years of simply talking to people he didn't yet know.

So much can be picked up by zooming in on someone who might just know something you don't. We found a hotel room here simply because Amanda noticed a westerner reading Blue Like Jazz. The city was booked but we followed this expat to where she was staying and it was amazing! We could see Malaysia from the rooftop pool. We walked the beach and at Jacob's Cafe. We slept. It was great.

Now I'm off to see if I can find a particular stranger on this plane who is going to the same place we are and might know the friends we're staying with. Lisa? Are you out there???